


PRINTED, NOT PUBLISHED. 



OUR 



ODDITIES, 



AN AMERICAN COMEDY, 



IN FIVE ACTS, 



BY 




STANLEY M^KENNA 



NEW YORK : 
Metropolitan Print. Herald Building, 218 Broadway. 

.877. 



PKTNTED, Ts^OT PUBLISHED. 



OUB 



ODDITIES, 



AN AMEEICAN COMEDY, 



JN FIVE ACTS, 



STANLEY M^KENNA 




Entered according to Act of Congress in the year 1877, by Mr;^. Stanlky McKenna, 
in the office of the Libiarian of Congress, at Wabbington, D. C. 






PERSONS IN THE COMEDY, 



DR. DOUBLEDOSE PILBOX, a Medical Practitioner and Proprie- 
tor of the " Mudler," a ]\I'idical, Scientitic and Literary Gazette 

MAULSTICK VARNISH, .ui Artist : 

HENRY ARGENT, a Financier 

MR. EMANUEL BONDS, a Banker 

DR. MELANCTIION SADEYE, a Partner of Pilbox and Editor ot 
the ' ' Mudler " . 

HUNTINGEM SLEUTH, a Detective 

ROGER SHOUTLOUD, a man about tf wn . . . 

ADELAIDE CLYNTON BONDS, the Banker's Daughter 

OLIVIA, his Niece 

SOPHIA SOROSIS BONDS, his Sister 

SUSAN, her Maid 

Time — Tite Pivsent Bay. 



ACT 1. 



SCENE I. 



A Doctor's Office. 

{Sofa L., head up sitage — De'>k with drop light— Books ^Medicalinstru- 
ments and papers, with chair B.— Doors H and L, Book Cases against 
Flats— Varnish discovered lying on sofa— Sad entering to him. 

Sad. The doctor's not here? 

Vae. No, I am waiting for hina. 

Sad. Dear me ! That's unfortunate — just tax hick though. 

Vak. Why— What's the matter? 

Sad. I w.mted to see him on a httk^ personal hnsiness. It will do when 
he comes in. 

Var. Trouble with \he Madkrl 

Sad. No ; but with the editor of that organ. 

Var. You ? It can't be possible ! 

Sad. Yes, it is ; quite possible, and quite serious, too. 

Vak. Why, you haven't been attacking anybody, have you? 

Sad. No. But somebody's beea attacking me ! 

Vak. a woman, as usual. 

Sad. Yes ! A woman, as usuxl. Yon i><^Q when Pilbox and I went into prac- 
tice together, patients were scarce and difficult to recruit. To make a little noise we 
started the 3f((/Zto', a weekly medical, literary and religious gazette, devoted to the 
cultivation of patients and the discussion of current topics. As the Mudler trew, the 
practice swelled, and. after a time, Pilbox; devoted himself entirely to the jjatients 
and left the paper to me. 

Var . Generous of him. > 

Sad. It was, wasn't it ? To be sure, he called me in when he had a difficult 
case on hand, or one that required unusual skill, but when they got well he took the 
fees and I got notes for an article. He never gave me a chance— nor any one else. — I 
never bad a chance ! 

Var. U ere's one for you now. There's a lady, you say. 

Sad. You call that a chance ! I don't ! 

Var. Why what's the matter with her ? 

Sad. Boils ! 

Var. Boils ? 

Sad. Yes, boils, constantly and alwaj'S. First in one place, then in another. 
Sometimes in several places at once — and occasionally all over. 

Var. Dear me ! Are they very bad ? 

Sad Bad — awful ! 

Var. Stave her of!" then. 

Sak. I can't. That's the weak spot in my nature ; the blemish in my charac- 
ter. My confounded obliging disposition won't allow me to say no. I never could 
say no ; particularly to a woman. You have no idea the trouble it has brought upon 
me. 

Vak. Tell her you have a wife. l''ou wouldn't mind that, I suppose ? 

Sad. No ; but do you think that would stop her ? Nothing of the kind. Once 
a woman makes up her mind to a thing, no such obstacle as an')ther woman will 
stand in her way. I know them. She Avill tell you she is not going to have her hap- 
piness destroyed because there are other women in the world. I had a similar case 
not long ago. 

Var. Indeed ! What was the matter with her ? 
Sad, Measles. Sbe labored under the impression she was going to have the 
measles, and kept on till she gave 'em to me. 
Var. Were they bad ? 
Sad. Bad — awful. 



Vak. Why don't you try the West, doctor, or Europe? 

Sad. That's j list what I want to see Pilbox about. He helped me out of a 
scrape once before. 

Vae. Indeed ! how did that happen ? 

Sad. I was on my way to the office here, one mornino;, thinking over a sensa- 
tion article for the next week's Madkr, when all of a sudden I saw — 

Vab. Your patient ! 

Sad. Yes ; coming toward me with — 

Vae. Smallpox. 

Sad. No ! whooping cough ! The moment she saw me she was seized with a 
terrible attack — it gfnerallj' h ijipened that way — and the effect was so violent she 
clutched at me for support. 

Vah. She suffered severely? 

Sad. Awful ! You could hear her whoop a mile off. She held on so stoutly 
that I should have been seized with a fit, of whooping, too, but that by a dextrous and 
sudden iwist of my body, I got fiee. 

Vak. That was a lucky twist for yon. 

Sad. Luck! Me! I never had any; all the other way! Biit — aJi— (-?/>//«')»;/.) 
Well, never mind, I rushed to the office, begged the Doctor for some foreign mission 
for the Mudler, and he sent me iato the interior of Africa to study the sc Ip. 

Var. That was a nice berth. Why didn't j'ou stay there? 

Sad. I couldn t. My bad luck followed me even into that di-tant country I 
wasn't there a month before the entire female population of an underground vill;ige 
voted me tiieir combined spouse at a public meeting. 

V.vK. Come, that was a ch mce surely. 

Sad. The women ilo as they like there — indeed they do here for that matter — 
it was under the intiaence of the enjoyment of these privileges that they took a multi- 
plied fancy to me. 

PiL. ( Outside.^ They must wait, I can't see them no y. 

Vail Here's Pilbox. 

Sad. Yes ; and I'm afraid in not a very good humor either. Can't be helped. 
I won't be sacrificed in this way. 

{Enter Pilbox very much fxc'ded. Walks up and down the stage.) 

P:ij. Ah, doctor, there yon are. Those charity people are all waiiing. I wish 
you would look at them. 

Sad. I can't. She's there ;dso and I dare no^t show myself. 

Vak Yes, she's there. 

PiL. She ? Who ? 

Sad . Boils. 

PiL. Boils! Oh. is she? Well, give her something. 
Sad. I have given her lots o' things, but I don't think she takes 'em. 
PiL. {ThdugldfuUy ) Boils? boils? boils? Let me see, what's best for boils. 
C Tunvnq suddenly, to Sadeye. ) Are they bad ? 

Sad. {Despairii gly.) Bad? Awlul ! 

PiL. Wt 11, give "her pills. My pdls. They'll help her. 

{Crossing Sad. icJio moves up stage.) 
Sad. I never thought of that. Thanks. I think I will. 

{doing toward C. D.) 

Piu Give her three. They 11 do her good. {Qidcl-ly, after r'fleding.) No, give 
her six. That'll relieve you I oth. 

Sad. (^At G. D.) Me! Ah! there's no chance for me. I never had any luck. 
I'll try it ttiough. 

(£!»■■/ C, with a dej)ressed melancholy air.) 

V.\E. {To Pilbox.^ You seem agitated. Anything happened? 

{Pilbox walks ^X(:itedly t<^ and fro. Every now and again looking at his hands, ar- 
ranging Ids white neckcloth and. straightening hirns&f. ) 

PiL. Happened? Everything has happened and nothing. I have just returned 
fiom visiting and I find my patients in a most satisfactory condition. My theory of 



the liver and its influence is making a sensation, and nothing is talked about but my 
treatment. 

Var. That is very flattering. 

PiL, Yes, it is most satisfactory. Everj'where I go; on every side I hear nothing 
but Pills— Pills— Pills and Dr. Pilbox. 

Vab. The " Mudler " is evidently doing good work. 

PiL. It is ; but just at this moment it has brought me into a most embarras.sing 
position. 

Var. Indeed, how is that? 

PiL. I am invited as a Doctor and a literary man to read a paper before the 
Medical Literary College, and I am at a loss for a subject. 

Vak. Yon at a loss for a subject. 

PiL. I iiiHst read a paper, and a strong one, I owe it to my reputation and my 
place in medicine and literature, to not only show my pi-ofrf.-sious whcr > they a'e, but 
to confirm the theorj' of my treatment of the liver and extend the consumption of my 
matvellous pills. 

Var., folding a dgarette A, noble ambition, certainly. 

Pn^. I grant you, but I am upset at the start by the ant of a subject — 

Var., a.suif. On which to introdvice the theory, {Aloud.) That surely \\ ill be no 
difficulty in your wa}^ 

HiL,. My dear fellow, you know nothing about it — Landscapes are your line, not 
medicine. Yours is an imitative art. mine a creatine. — .Tnst at this moment, to be 
STire, I am rather at a loss in the inventive department — l)ut that's nothing. — In liter- 
ature — as a jjoet, I am alone, — In the Epic — Lyric— Stanza -S niiet or Song — I am at 
home. In medicine I flatter my elf I am the prophet of a » ew practice, but I have 
never meddled with this lectiire business, and I really feel a little at sea. I must be 
instructive, as wrll astoimdiug, but what am I to start onV 

Var. Try mciisles. 

PiL. Mea^-les would do, pills are good for measles, that is my pills, but measles 
have been done. 

Var. How are bunions ? 

PiL. Capital, and pills are an exc lleut remedy for them, but they, like the 
measles, have been done — 

Vak., lighlbvj oif/ureUe. It's very unfortunate 

PiL. I have tlionghi of corns, cramps and c lie, wens, worms, miimps, gout, 
gumboils, styes and chilblains, and every other disease knuwu to the faculty, for ench 
of which my piils are very fine, but everything has been taken by some bungler who 
ha-^ failed, and nothing is left for me to m ke a success on. 

Var. Give theu\ an extraordinary case from your own experience. 

PiL. Too common, they all do that, whether they have them or not, and as I 
tell yon my invention is a little out of order to-day. Of course the burden of the 
entertainment I have decided on, but how to introduce that is whiit I mu-.t deter- 
mine. 

Enter colored hoy rcitli lelt<'rs, rohicJi. he puis on. desk beside Pilbox. Letters, Doctor ! 

PiL. Now, there's a nice job — go through that correspondence— look at it ' — 
Hallo! what's this? (PicHm/ oul one of ili.c lelfers.) Pick paper — p rfame — a lady's 
hand? Ah — ha! We'll see what t ids is. {Opens and re.ivh.) "My dear Dr." — very 
good! she begins well. " Your admirable advocacy of the emaroipation 'f women 
has struck me forcibly." 

V.\E., aside — smoldng. And me too. 

PiL., reading — atde.sk. " Your ideas are oriaJual and encouTnging, and I am en- 
deavoring in my humble peison to bring my enthralled sister-, into their adoption. — 
Two persons laboring in such a noble cause should be known to each other that th y 
may work together and give their efi'orts greater power." 

Var. Ho-ho ! 

PiL., reading. "Will you come to me at 41 Levelem Avenue or shall I goto 
you? Sincerely yours, Adelaide Clynton Bonds. ' (Turning lo Var.) What do 
you think of that? 

Var. I think the lady is rapidly emancipating herself. But it is your fault. 
You have been writing it up. 

PiL. I tliink Sadeye did have a dash at it. lie couldn't help it. Just at that time 
it was the topic before the public. 

Var. What are you going to do about the letter ? 

PiL. It promises profit, consequently I wd I answer it You don't know, per- 
haps that young lady's father is a banker, and slu' is his heir. {Junipiug up suddenly.) 
Old lellow, my fortfine is made. Here is the golden opportunity at last. 

Var. You forget. She is averse to matrimony. 



6 

PiL. (Looking into wirror over his desk.) All ! indeed ! I — ah — tliiuk we might 
remove that obstacle. Arranging necktie. 

Vae. Capital ! upon my word. 

PiL. By the way, I have an idea. 

Vae. Out with it. 

PiL. I must call on this lady. 

Vak. Well. 

PiL If I visit her now, while the full Hush of my fame is on her, I will have an 
advantage over her. 

Vak. Do yon think so ? 

Pal. She will be Tinable to resist the doctor and the poet in the same person. 
I will be generous aud abandon that advantage. 
Var How? 

PiL {Taking up coaf, hat and siirk.) I will put aside the poet, appear before 
her under an assiimed name, and owe my conque.st to my personal qualities. Imag- 
ine her delighted surprise when vanquished and falling into my extended aims she 
learns the darling of her heait is the approved of her judgment. 

Vae. I never thought yotir taleat for writing sensation wrappe s for pilboxes 
would lead you this far. 

PiL. Sneer awav. Fortune favors the brave. 

Vae. Suppose she comes here. 

PiL. {P idling on coal .) We can manage tint. You must remain here and take 
my place, and IM call ou her as you. Don't you see. Glorious ! glorious ! I'll offer 
to puint her, and in that way obtain an audience. Bravo ! bravo I I'm off. Good 
bye, old fellow ! Good bve ! Dr. Doubledose Pilbox, I salute you. 

Vae. I don't paint portraits. Take care of that. 

PiL. What does it matter? I can make the sitting suflticiently interesting, I 
flatter myself, even without the i^icture. 

Var. You forgot one thing. I am invited to visit the young ladj'. 

PiL. {Puiiing on gloves.) You werr" scarcely in office at that moment. But no 
matter, accei^t it my dear doctor ; I shall be glad to meet you at the house. Ah ! I 
must take some instruments in case — {Pnl.v a small cuse of inslrnments in his pocket ) 
Mind, now, verj' important all the affairs of the office, and if any one comes with a 
bill — pay it. Goodbye. Goodbye. {Exit C.) 

Var. If a man's opinion of himself could carry him through the world, my friend 
Pilbox would have an easy time of it. 

' {Enter Bonds and Argeiil. C. D.) 

Bonds. I trust we are not intruding, sir ; but we desire to see Dr. Pilbox. 

Var. We — I— that is— {Aside.) Confound it — {Aloud.) What can I do for 
you, sn-? 

Bonds. I hope we find y m at leisure. We called on a little matter of business. 

Var. {Aside.) One of the bills — {Aloud.) I an at your service, sir. 

Bonds. My name, Doctor, is Bonds. I am a banker. 

Vae. {Aside:) The devil — the father — {Aloud.) I congratulate you, sir. 

Bonds. Ou what ? 

Vae. Your immense wealth. 

Bonds. O, nonsense. -Bi\t to the point. 

Vae. Y'es ; to the pomt. 

Arg. Very good, sii:^to the point. {Pointing to chair.) Will you be seated? 

Bonds. No, thank you. I have a daughter. 

Vae. Y''ou have a daughter. 

Aeg. Yes, sir. He has a daiighter. 

Bonds. She is the object of my visit. 

Vae. I understand tne object of your visit. 

Aeg. Yes. She is the object of our visit. 

Vae. Certainly ; and you desire — 

Bonds. Now, sir, you have written in your paper all sotts o' rubbish about this 
woman movement. 

( Varyii.'iJi. •niakfs <( movement of asUm.islviuent. Bonds s'ops him.) 

I know — I know I'^ou have to get a living, and that kind o' thing takes. But 
you have turned the heads of half the women, sir, and kicked up a devil of a mess in 
my family. 

Vae. In yoiir family? 

Aeg. In bis family. 



Bonds. My wife died some years ag i ; and I have not been able, in conequence 
of my numerous business engagements, to give the attention to my daughter's educa- 
tion some people would call necessary. The result is she has grown up with a will of 
her own; She has taken these daumed new-fangled notions o' yours into her head, 
and now absolutely refuses to marry. 
Vae. She refiises to marry. 
Ana. Yes. she refuses to marry. 

Bonds. She gives me as a reason that she intends to form a friendship with yon, 
and devote herself to the emancipation of her sex. 
Vak. {Indignaidly. ) Well sir, what then ? 

Bonds. (Aiu/rily.) Why, sir, you understand it won't do -I won't have it, sir ! 
Damn it, sir — do yoii suppose I am going to allow my daughter, sir, to run around 
the country lecturing in a man's hat and breeches, sir? No, sir ! I'll buy up the 
whole infernal movetueut first, sir ! 

Vak. This is a very difficult question, sir. 

Bonds. No, sir; it s not difficult at all. It's nollars and cents, and must be stttled 
that w&y. This gentleman is to marry my daughter. He is going into business with 
m- after and our contracts are all ready — sir — the girl at the last moment refuses and 
we are in a fix, sir. Do you see ? 

Vae. Well, but how can I V 

BoDNs. You must take that nonsense out of her head, sir. You put it there, so 
you must undertake the task of removing' it. Tell her you were mistaken— wrong — 
Vae But sir — honor — truth— the reputation of a great jour jal. 
Bonds. Now, look here — young man — you know that I am rich^I will prove to 
you that I am generous. 

Vae. You expect me to deny what has been printed in the Mudler. 
Bonds. Didn't you hear that I intended to treat you handsomely ? 
Abg. And so do I. 

Bonds. She will invite you to the house, that will give you an opportunity of 
bringing her to reason. 

Akg. Above all things make yourself disagreeable to her. 

Bonds. Induce her to marry, and I will double the sum I originally intended 
giving. 

Var. Gentlemen, your amiable impudence disarms anger. 
Both, in amazement. What? 

Vae. You come into this office under a pretence of business and dare say such 
things. 

Bonds. Don't beat about the bush in that way, sir, but tell me straightforwtirdly 
how much you will take. 

Vae. Leave the office, sir — I will no longer listen to these insults. 
Bonds, aside to Argent. There is more in this fellow than I supposed. He doesn't 
trust to promises Money down is his motto. ( To Varnish. ) Now, sir, suppose I 
offer you a ronnd sum — 

Vab. What do you take professional men to be, sir? 
Bonds. Poor devils — 

Vak., laughinij. You are right, but still men of honor. 
Bonds Well, well, jjerhaps. 

Vak. Offers of that kind you may make to rascals, but you must lo )k for them 
somewhere else. 

Bonds, apoloijizingly. Now, now, I don't mean — 

Vae. There are thousands of men, sir, whose only posses -ions are brains, and 
who would totter to the grave in a rusty coat rather than a dishonorable one should 
cover their shoulders 

Aru., aside lo Bonds. Allow me to arrange this matter with Doctor Pilbox alone. 
I think I understand the subject better than you. 

Bonds. Very good— very good. — (To Varnish.) I quite believe what you say. 
Doctor. Though, mind you — I don't understand a man refusing to make a good round 
sum of money. Good bye, s-ir, good bye. — I will leave this gentleman here — I .see 
plainly you young men can un lei stand each other without me. I'm glad to have 
met you, Doctor. Y''es, Vcry glad, indeed. Good bye, sir, good bye. {Shakes hands 
with Varnish and exits c. 

Vak., to Art). Now, sir, that we are alone what can I do for you? 
Akg. I must begio, Doctor, bv telling you my name is Argent. 
Vab. Then, Mr. Argent, you intend marrying- Miss Bonds. 
Abg. The coutract is signed. 
Vab. By the lady too ? 

Akg. No ; she and I have never seen each other. I only returned from Europe 
yesterday. The whole thing was arranged by letter with Mr. Bonds. 



8 

Vae. And yoii come to me for advice, because — 

Aeg. Ym; did the mischief, you see, with your paper. Her father tells me she 
intends to wear male attire and keep single. 

Vae. There is but one remedy for this, and it is in your own hands. Put those 
whims out of her head by your personal amiability. 

Aug. I have no time. Besides it would be very difficult. >She knows she is to 
marry me, and she has taken an aversion lo me 

Vah. Introduce yourself to her under an assumed name, and endeavor to gain 
her affection before you declare yourself 

AiiG. How can I do that? 

Vae. I have it, She is coming here this morning. Receive her for me, as Dr. 
Pilbox. 

Aeg That would be odd, woul 'n't it. 1 11 do it. And if I succeed, it will be 
due to yoiu 

Vae. I'll leave you here now, and when you have seen the lady, you will know 
how to take her. 

Aeg. You will come back when she has gone? * 

Vae. Certainly, certainly. 

{Eit'er Sad. C. ) 

Sad. There's a young lady (/eudivi^ curd), jVIiss Bonds, in the waiting room. 
She wants to see the Doctor. 

Vae.» All right. Show her in. 

Sad. Well, but— 

Vae. Its all right. Show her io. She won't touch you. 

Sad. I'll take care ot that. 

{ExUG.) 

Vae. Now, then, take your jilace at the desk— and stay— pat on this dressing 
gown and cap. You must look prdfetsional you know. Pity you haven't slippers. 

Aeg {Taking off Ins coat.) Y'^ou"re a regular brick. 

Vae. (P lilting yo'wn on him.) Of course I am. So are all doctors. 

Aeg. This thing is rather too much of a fit, isn't it doctor? (Showing lam 
dre sing gi.wn. ) 

Vae. Yes, doctor so it is. But its all the better for that. Men of genius are 
above such things as fits. Now then take your ^eat. {Argent sits at desk.) Put on 
your most serious and occupied air when she comes in, and be too busy to look at her 
for several minutes. Now try it. {Argent makes a face ut him.) Capital! Bravo! 
That's it ! I'^ou were made for a sawbones. Let's see, I must put a few more books 
©n thi^ desk. It doesn't look learned enough {Gets tots ol books from bookcase 
against flats and piles tnem on desk all round Argent.) Now it'll do. There you are, 
looking the very picture of a physician engaged in the transactions of a stupendous 
practice. 

Aeg. You're an awluHy jolly fellow for a doctor. 

Vae. Nothing of the kind. That's a Jalse impression, a popular prejudice. 
We doctors are the joUiest fellows in the world— oat of a jiatient's presence. But 1 
mufctn't keep the young lady wailing. Good bye, doctor, and good fortune to you. 

-» {Exit toj-o07n L.) 

Aug. I don't know, I nev. r was in a doctor's office before. I feel very uncom- 
fortable. ( Taking up a paper. ) What's this ? ( eidinq) ' ' Pills- their efiect upon the 
Jiver and other organs." I don't like pills ; I never did, and as for organs, the only 
organs I ever saw, are hand organs, and they are a nuisance. 

{En'er Olivia, C. D.) 

Ol. Doctor Pilbox, if you olease ? 
Aeg. (Aside.) Beautiiul, by Jove ! 
Ot-. Have I the pleasure of addressing Doctor Pilbox ? 

Aeg. Pilbox? Yes- certainly— that is- of course. What on earth am I to 
say? O, yes, I know (Aloud.) Doctor Pilbox All right. Show me your toogue. 
Ol. My tongue ? . . & 

Aeg . Yes You've got a tongue, I suppose. (Aside. ^ Most of you have. 
Ol. (Lnnghmg.) Oh, j'es, 1 have a tongue, doctor. 
Arg. Very good. Then let me see it. 



4 



Oh. I atti ndfc ailiiig exactly, doctor. My mime is Bonds. I "brdught a lettdr td 
yoii from Mrs. Meddlesome, i oame to ask yonr advice, (Hands him leller. ) 

Aeg. {Lookhuj aildkr. Axidc.) I dou't kuow Mis. Meddlesome, but I sup- 
pose it's all right. {Aloud,) Anything I can do lo oblige that lady, or any friend of 
hers, I shall be most happy. What is it, meisles or h lopiug cough '.■' 

Oiv. (Fnghtentd.) No, doctor, it's another matter. 

Aeg. Oh, yes, Miss Bonds, i know. The emaucijiatioii. 

Ol. Doctor 

Aeg. You refuse to be married. 

Ol. I— 

Aeg. Come now. This is just a whim— Isn't it? 

Ol., retiring. Pardon me — I — 

Aug. One moment, if you please. {Aside, lonkin'i at (he dressing gown.) Con- 
found this thing. 

Ol. 1 assure j'ou, — I think it is very strange — 

Aeg. You have written to me- have you not ? 

Ol. No, There must be souxn mistake. Perhaps my cousin Adelaide — 

Abg. Are you not Adelaide? 

Ol. No, Doctor, my name is Olivia. 

Aeg., partly aside So lovely and yet not Adelaide. 

Ol. 1 really do not understand you. 

Aeg. I beg your pardon. Be good enongii to take a seat, and let me know what 
I can have the pleasure of doing for you {Aside. ) These infernal rags. 

Ol. I don t know what to say. I expected to find — 

Arg. An old giey-headed fellow. O, dont mind that. It shall not be any im- 
pediment to the business that I am not bald, I assure yoii. 

Ol Well, I thought that in your practice and as proprietor of the Mudler you 
would naturally be acquainted with a great many people. 

Ami., dif^denliy. Yes, I suppose 1 am . {Aside.) Wtieres my coit? 

Ol. I have been talking to Mrs. xVIeddlesome and she advised me to come to 
you. 

Aeg. Qiiite right — she was quite right. 

Ol. My uncle is very kind to me — 

Aeg., aside. Who wouldn't be ? 

Ol. And so are my cousins, but that only makes mj' dependence on them the 
more oppressive to me. 

Aeg, And you desire — 

Ol. To get something to do at which I could earn my own living. 

Aeg., aside. Dear me — dear me — dear me — I wish I had my coat. 

Ol. Mrs. Meddlesome and I have talked it all over and we thought, with your 
assistance, I could get a position as visiting governebs or music teacher, 

Aeg. You — a governess or music teacher? 

Ol. What else can I do ? And to be candid with you, that would be less dis- 
agreeable to me than eating others bread. 

Aeg. Those are very noble, very elevated sentiments, ('aside.) I'm getting 
elevated. What a splendid girl. {Aloud.) Miss idonds — of course I sb all do what I 
can. You must give me a day or two to think it over and see some of my triends. It 
can't be done in a minute, you know. 

Ol. 1 shall only be too glad and thankful for yonr goodness. Shall I call the 
day after to-morrow— or — would you come to our house? There's the address. 

Giving him card. 

Aeg. I will look into the matter at once, and as you are so anxious — 1 may 
bring you some answer this afternoon. 

Ol. Can you? I shall be very, very grateful. I must ask you as a great fav<r 
to keep all this secret for the present. 

Aeg. I will be careful to do so. 

Ol. Good morning. Oh, I shall wait lor you so anxiously. Good morning, 
Doctor. 

Aeg. Good morning. {Boms h^r out.) Good gracious ! {Fdnging off gown and 
cap.) A governess ! a music teacher I That girl. It was a very fortunate thing I came 
here. 

Enter Varnish from room L. 

Vae. Well, is the hyena gone ? 

Aeg. My dear doctor, that was not the lady we expected, but her cousin Olivia, 
— a splendid girl. 

{He changes the diffident manner he had during tlie prtvioiis scene, and is now quick and 
bold. ^ 



10 

Var. Hallo! What's lip? Yon look like a different man, 

Aug. Do I? Perhaps I am. Heariua; ihat girl talk abdut iadtpendence aud 
getting her own living — a delicate, beautiful young -I have eoaie to the conclusion 
there's something line in women after all. 

Vak. Her eyes, I fancy, ^ave been the cause of ihis sadden conv. rsion. 

Aeg. May ije ! Maybe! Who knows? 

Vak. I would advise you, thoiigh, not to let Olivia's presence dwell tio much 
on your mind until you are off witli Adel ude. 

Aeg. Coufonnd it, yes ! I had lorgotten that. But now, look here, you have 
been so friend y that '■ m ;st ask yo i to come to the house and make an effort to cure 
her of that emancipation business. Tell the old man he must give you a couple of 
days, and then I will have lime to — 

Vae. See Olivia. 

Aeg. Perhaps. Never mind, we'll l^ave that to chance and the future. For the 
present siippose we celebrate our newly made friendship in a dinner. 

Vae. With all my he irt. 

Aeg. And atter that you can begin your work of regeneration upon Adelaide. 

Fae. And you uiion Olivia. Ha, ha, ha ! What a meeting {Gobnj, laughing 
as they go. Sadei/p meets them C.) Take my place, we are Roing out. 

Sad. (Til Varnish, appeahngly.) But look here, suppose — 

Var. Never mind, I leave you in charge. (Evennt.) 

Sad. It's all very fine to go off in that way and say you leave me in charge, but 
j'ou don't know who may come m at any moment and take charge of me 

{E.kr Sjphia C.) 

So. Doctor Pilbox, if you please ? 

Sad. {Aside.) I knew it. The moment I am left alone the enemy appears. 
{Aloud.) Boils, ma'am. 

So. {Ill ecstacy ) My prophetic soul whispers me you are that great man^ 

Sad. {Aside, frightened.) No, this is measles! 

So. {Rapidly, without giving him time lohreak in.) Not a word. A look, a move- 
ment of the hand is sufficient for me to divine the thoughts of others. Ha ! I knew I 
could not be misttiken. I can .-ee on that high and noble brow the majestic fotce with 
which you wield the scourge of satire. The paleness of your cheek .speaks of mid- 
night vigils. The soft aud liquid fire in your eye murmurs lyrics of the p et. I read 
a sonnet on your classic nose. 

Sad. O, come — ncne o' that — none o' that ! There's nothing the uiatter with my 
nose. {Feeling it.) 

So., continuing with volubility. What I want, jou wish to know? To make your 
acquaintance — to form an union — ot our souls — 

Sad. No you don't— form any iiuions with me — I'm united already. 

So., in the same strain. You behold in me a kindred spirit. 

Sad., aside. Yes, rather a thick one. 

So., not noticing his uiterra^ydons. I too wield the pen. I am one of that sacred 
guild who serve the temple of AjjoUo. 

Sad. All right ! — Stick to him. — I hear he's a very nice young man. 

So. I glory in having received the genuine consecration of a priestess of the 
muses. I am devoted to Melpumene. High tragedy aloue absorbs my soaring spirit. 
I write plays. I brought" with me the first act of my last great work. {Beckoning of 
C.) Bring in that mauuscripD in my cairiage ! 

Sad. Don't ! don^ ! 1 beg of you — madam — or miss. 

So., btiperiousty. I cannot yet claim that di-tinguished title- 1 am sti 1 a maid. 

Sad., a-tide. Heaven protect us ! 

So. I am yet searching for the man who can understand the utmost emotions ot 
my ecstatic soul. 

Sad. You can't find him here ! No ma'm. 

So., continuing ixtruvaganlly. Who could sympathise wiih me and form an union 
that should comprehend all the delights of which the human heart are capable. You 
wish to know my name ! I read the question in your glorious eyes. 

Sad., aside. I shall wear ghisses iu future — I will. Nothing else can save me. 

So. I have two; a profane— f ir which I have to thank my father — • 

Sad., aside. Oho ! she knows her fa her— and at that age ! O, Lord ! 

So. And a sacred, that I bear as a priestess of ihe muses. This you have doubt- 
less often heard, Hypolyte Melpomene. Oh ! I see, you have. Fame! Fame ! bow 
pleasant is thy refiection ! 

Sad., aside. It is— there's not a doubt of it — I knew that 

So. My family name is Sophia Sorosis Bonds. I am the sister of the banker. I 
live on my fortune, which is large, and— why should I deny it— I have long desired 
to form your acqi;aintance. 



11 

Sad. Two dollars, fees, in advauce. 

So., who has been wovhuj ahonl the sla,jefi!U)Hi "-. the time excUedh/ mid exiruvaqaidty 
slappmr/ her forehead violently.) Away with cold u> luulity, which oppressively intrudtr's 
between tM-o spirits created for one another ! 

Sad. No they ain't. Nothing of the kind . 

So. (Addressing him.) Pilbox, I admire, revere, adore you. Your keen wit 
your divme poetry have taken such a hold on me that my whole soul has gone out to 
you. 

Sad . Bleeding and pills. 

(Colored hoy bring •,■ on a huge roll of Jfss.) 

So. Oh. here it is. You shall now heir the tirst act of mv great traeedv. 
Sad. Notif lean avoid it. ^ 

(Jumps lip and daslies (oicard I he door She cu' cites him a^idfl'ngs him hack loithoul 
looking. He falls upim the sofa. She icJdns off' her hat loiuch she flings towards the 
desk li., and her .s7i«t/, whirh she l}ir<acs L., hil.ling Sadeye and knocking him over. 
Takfs the roll if .Uss. from the porter, nnj-olh H on the floor, and puts herself into a 
tragic attitude to read. Colored boy, JR.. very frigh'ened, falls into a chair.) 

So. (Excited y.) I have scorned all the beaten tracks They no longer excite 
the piiblic. My ideas are new and striking 

(Swinging her right arm she Ints th" colored hoy, lolio lias beeti eyeing the door a few 
mnutes before and is endea^iiriiig to steal away, and knocks him b<ok into the 
chair. ) 

Sad., aside. They are ctrtaiuly striking. (A'ond.) Stop !— I havn'tmade my will. 

Sophia. 

Crash on crash, with awful roar, 
Highward to heaven the echoes roar. 
The din of battle and th'^ mighty Hood, 
Of ihoiisanrls giving out their blood ; 
From cannons' throat, the thundering boom. 
The dying shriek, the awfal tomb, 
Cut in the henrt of nature's breast ; 
Mountains of f-lain. dashed th^ re to rest, 
Swept from the haunts of living men, 
Hurled to rot in one vast pen ! 
Hark ye, the cry eie the curtain fall, 
Ot the desolate, daring, doomed and all. 
Those thous^ind hearts that met the fo?, 
And brought lo o'.hers ^uch withering woe. 



CUKTAIN. 

(The drop shou'd Jail .4oicly on the fourth line, and th". rest spoken, or a'iempted to be 
spoken afterward. In case if call, the speech should be continued witliou'. reference 
to he drop or 'o the audience ) 



12 



ACT II. 

SCENE THE FIRST. 
A Garden — Rustic Seats and Sofas H. and L. 

SUSAN, discovered, OLIVIA, entering to her. 

Ol. Anybody been here while 1 was out? 

Su. No, only the tailor trying to suit Miss Adelaide with a costume. 

Ol. Has he succeeded 'i 

Su. It appears so. Mary tells me she has chosen the oddest mixture of a 
man's and woman's dress that ever was seen. 

Ol. I don't think it is «ny of M^irv's business to discuss her mistresse's tastes 
in dress, but it seems one can no mere contnil servants' tongues than their ears. 

Su. Well now, it's enouuli to make servants talk when dressmakers are sent 
out of the house and men employed in their places to make a young lady's dresses. 
I'd like to see the man who wonld come to fit me with one. 

Ol. Hush ! here's my cousin. 

Enter Adelaide in a sart of mixed contume, pardking of coat shaped tunic and round 
hat, shirt collar, eye glass and wulktn'j caiie, loa ks to and fro. 

Ade. Ah ! Olivia I you here ? What do you think of that — eh ? 

Showing her costume, 

Ol, Very pretty — for a masquerade. 

Ade. Masquerade ! Nen.sense, child. Tliis is the first step toward emancip- 
ation, and I have taken it— You behold the future garb of the sex, unless I make 
some improvements within the next week or two — which is likely — still to much of 
this fol-de-dol business. 

Tapping th" xkirts training behind Jier with the cune. 

Susan, I left my card case on the mantel . Get it, please. 

Susan, going. Yes, nia'm. 

Ol. And is tliis all, emancipation, as you call it, requires. 

Ade. O dear, no. But this is the beginning, and it's great value is that it 
will make the men understand we mean to have our own way. 

Ol. We ! Do you expect all women will follow your example ? 

Ade. As certainly as that all are inspired with a desire to be free from the 
despotism of man. — Man'.-paugh' Tlie word disi;usts me almost as much as the 
thing. What is a man — I*ask you V Wlmt is a man ? 

Ol., archly and timidly. I'm sure, I don't know 

Ade. I do. A thing made up of conceit, presumption fi.nd tailor's padding — 
What have you been reading? 

Ol. Milton. 

Ade. Pshaw! a poet I I hate poets. 

Ol. Why? 

Ade. Because they're most of ihem men. 

Ol. You evercame that disliiie in the case of Doctor Pilbox— he is a poet 
and a man — you invited him to visit you. 

Ade. I did, because lie is the only one who has been just to us and become 
our champion . 

Ol. Others have done the same. 

Ade. I don't know anythmg about them, and don't wish to— 

Enter Bonds C. At sight of Adelaides dress he bursts into laughter. 
Ade. Well — what's the matter ? 



Bonds, laughing. You look so funny. 

Ade. Funny ! What an expression ! I often told you that your judgment 
was distorted. 

Bonds. Now, don't fly into a passion. 

Ade If my father treats me with contempt, what am I to expect from the 
rest of the world ! 

Bonds, alarmed. Why, you don't intend to— 

Ade. Appear in public in this dress.— But I do though — 

Bonds. Go into the street like that ? ' 

Ade. Precisely. This has been made on purpose, and I rather think it will 
astonish some people. 

Bonds. You ma}^ be sure it will astonisli a great many. 

Ade. I hope so. But then it will be only the men, and they don't count. I 
hope to see the time when we shall be able to abolish them altogether. 

Bonds, asionisJied. The men ! 

Ade. Certainly. 

Bonds. If you continue in this way it will be a good thing for them. By the 
way, there is a young artist who has called here about a picture. 

Ade. Let him come here at once. It shall be a full length and in this dress. 
By haviiii;- it exposed in one of the art galleries I can prepare the way for my 
appearance in public. 

Bonds. Very good. (Going, he looks at the hook Olivia is r-eading.) What 
are you reading ':' 

Ol. Poetry. 

Bonds. Bah I I thought it was a cookery book. 

Exit a 

Ade. to Olivia. Why did you shake your head so when I was talking to my 
father V 

Ol. Because your manner did not seem to me becoming for a daughter. 

Ade. He is a man, and I begin my work with him. So far, I am successful, 
for you see he always yields. 

Ol Because he is too indulgent . 

Ade. Nonsense. It is because I convince him. 

Enter Bonds, introducing Pilhox. 
Bonds. There is my daughter, sir, and you can speak for yourself. 

Exit. 

ViL., aside. Not a bit like what I expected. (Aloud.) Miss Bonds, lam 
delighted at the opportunity of meeting so distinguished 

Adelaide. (^Aside, looking at him curiously.) Too long in the leg; short in 
the body ; weak in the knees ; a fool with an enormous opinion of himself. (Aloud.) 
They tell me you are a painter, young man. 

PiL. (Nettled. Aside.) Young man ! (Aloud.) I have that honor. 

Ade. To make it an honor you should be a good one. I hope you are a 
good one. (Looking at him contemptuously .) You need to be. 

PiL. The world of art has dealt most kindly with my productions. (Aside.) 
Avoiding them. 

Ade. I should say that was a lucky thing for you ? Are you married ? 

PiL (Aside. ) She's a stunner. Goes straight to the point like a blue pill. 
(Aloud) I have not had the happiness of meeting — 

Ade. Ah, well ! there's some hope . What's your name V 

PiL. Varnish. I usually sign my pictures V. 

Ade. (Aside.) The same as the doctor. I like him for that. (Aloud.) You 
want to paint my picture V 

PiL. Now that I have seen you, yes. I will undertake the task. 

Ade. Now. Was there some doubt of it before? 

PiL. I never draw a head I consider unworthy my pencil. (Aside.) Alo- 
pathic application. 

Ade. Oho, Mr. Painter. I see you have studied the art of flattery. That's a 
male accomplistiinent and one I dislike. 

PiL. Truth can never be flattery. I find you beautiful, very beautiful, and I 
say so without hesitation . But, pardon me, I expected to meet but one lady and — 



14 

Ade. There are two. I suppose I must make you acquainted with us. This* 
is my cousin, Miss Olivia Bonds. 

PiL. Delighted, Miss Bunds, delighted. I will paint your picture, too. 

Ol. If I desire it, sir. 

PiL. I deem the subject worthy, and that is generally sufficient. No lady 
has refused me 3^et. 

Ade. I have a great mind to be the first to offend. 

PiL. I am truly in a most embarras.sing p'^sition. If called upon at this mo- 
ment to confer the prize for beauty, I should beat a loss what to do. [To Ade- 
laide.) Here an amiable itidependen.ce dwells. (To OUcia.) There a mild enthu- 
siasm. {To Adelaide.) The ttashinj; courage ef those ej^es captivates my soul. 
{She grows very indignant. To Olivia.) This calm dignity enthrals my senses. Oh, 
queens of hearts! I now understand ihe torture Paris must have suffered when 
asked to choose between three goddesses. 

Ade. What rubbish. You sball not choose but paint, and then let your es- 
timation dwell only on the price of 3'our picture 

PiL If I succeed with the portrait, ibe work will be invaluable, and I will 
succeed, fur inspiration will command — my brush — my heart and hand will guide 
its touch. 

Ade. to Olivid. Now won't you admit I was right. This is man. 

PiL. Oh, I see you believe in the emancipation of your sex, and you seize 
every opportunity of a struggle with men. 

Ade. I didn t say I considered you a man. There are many who wear 
pantaloons who would be much better fitted with petticoats. 

PiL. How deliciously witty. I adore it and surrender. Behold me ready 
to adopt any cos'ume your fancy dictates. 

Ade. You carry your presumption too far, sir. Y"ou came here to paint not 
bother me. 

PiL. Are the homages one renders to your beauty ofiensive '? 

Ade. They are— coming from you 



Enter Susan, C. 



Susan. Dr. Pilbox, shall I bring him here, ma'am? 
Ol. aside, jumping up. He must not see me. 



'Exit L. 
Ade. to Susan Y^es, I will receive him here. 

Exit Susan, 0. 

PiL. aside. This is unfortunate. Just as I was getting along nicely. 

Ade. Will you excuse me for to-day, sir? 

PiL. Pray, clont mind me. I know the doctor. 

Ade. aside. What a nuisance this man is! 

Var. entering C. Miss Bonds"? 

Ade. Y''es, Doctor, and I am very glad to see you. 

PiL. aside to Varnisli. What do you want here? 

Var. same play, aside. Iv«ep quiet. (Aloud.) I did not know you had a — 

Ade. looking at lier dress. Masquerade. We have not. This is the first 
movement toward the attainment of our great object. I hope you approve my 
idea. 

Var. If that dress be the embodiment, I do not. 

Ade. Can it be possible that you — 

PiL. Doctor Pilbox — how dare you — 

Ade. Keep quiet, sir ! {To Varnish Doctor, I am astonished — 

PiL. So am I . 

Ade., aside. This man will ruin my temper. {Aloud to Pilbox.) I aslced you 
not to interfere, sir. 

PiL. Certainly not, ifyousayso. 

Ade., to Var. Y'^ou have written a great deal on the subject of the emancipation 
of woman— and pointed out the means to gain that end. Now, that I enter the 
path leading to it— fling aside the fetters that narrow-minded custom have loaded 
us with, you object at the very outset. 

Var. You punish my indiscretion severely. 

Ade. Indiscretion I 



15 

PiL. Indiscretion ! (Adelaide, turns quickly on liim and Ue trien to get out of 
having inter'rupted her, by a cough.) Hum. (covg/is.) 

Ade. Sir — I — 

PiL. Tliat was a mere involuntary ejaculati' n. I wont do it again. 

Var. Yes, an indiscretion — at tlie most a professional ruse. 

PiL , aside. He's running away with my reputation. (To Varnish, aside ) 
What in thunder are you about? Change the treatment. 

Adk. You amaze me. 

PiL. And me too. 

Ade., to Pilbox. Will you — sir — 

PiL. I will — I will. (Aside.) Here's an emetic. 

Var. When I started the Mudler I wanted tirst readers and then patients. 
People demand spicy reading, and I was obliged to take up one of the vexed 
questions of the hour and discuss it spicely, to attract attention to my venture — and 
myself. 

PiL., aside. He'll ruin me. The Mudler wont be worth a cent a copy after 
this. 

Var. I grant yvOU, the popular appetite is a pernicious one, and is rapidlj^ 
destroying our literature. Clever writers— that is to say — brilliant superficial 
scribblers, without learning or cultivation, are the fasbion, and truth, wisdom and 
linowledge are thrust aside that the multitude may be entertained with rhapsodical 
rubbish. 

Ptl., aside. In tbe Mudler? < Aloitd ) Damn it, sir ! 

Ade., to Pilbo.v. Really, sir — 1 sball request your absence if this occurs again. 

PiL. I beg your pardon very sincerely, but it is beyond the limits of human 
endurance to stand by and hear respectable reputations disposed of in this manner. 

Ade. Take no notice of that young man, Doctor, but continue. 

PiL. Young— 

Adelaiile looks at him and he stops suddenly. 

Var. That subject was treated, like many others that seemed likely to sell 
the paper, to the best of our ability. 

PiL., insinuatingly. But, Doctor — y 

Var. Many things were said in the Mudler that were never believed. 

PiL., interrupting. I deny it. 

Ade , angrily Will you stop ! 

PiL. I will— I will. {Aside.) I was bankrupt already, but now 1 shall go 
straiebt to the workhouse. 

Var. The Mudler has often reviled what was beautiful. 

PiL. {Aside.) Heavens above ! 

Tar. Praised what was miserable. 

PiL. {Beside himself .) That's another xnff^vnaX. - ' Same play of Adelaide.) 
That's the last ! Thafs the last ! [Aside.) I'm a ruined man. 

Ade. And you confess all this. 

Var. Truth becomes a man 

PiL. Miss Bonds, one word — 

Ade. You can give your opinion another time, it it's worth anything. {To 
Varnish.) Women are oppressed ; they must be freed . 

Var. They cannot. Until thej' can do a man's labor they must remain as 
they are — in tlie'ir proper place. 

Ade. I can do anything a man does. 

PiL. So can I— I mean, to be sure jou can. 

Var. Can you manage a s>vord V 

Ade. I can learn how to. Give me an opportunity and I will show you. 

PiL, Yes, give her a chance. 

Var. You can't learn to face danger calmly. 

Ade. ( Warmly . ) Put me lo the trial and I will show you. 

Var. Well, I will bring arms here this afternoon. If you declare after the 
first quarter of an hour you can learn to manage the sword, l will surrender. 

PiL. That s capital. 

{Adelaide looks at him indignantly. He stops suddenly .) 

Ade. Very good. One thing more. I invited you here. Do you know 
why ? 

Var. No. 

PiL. [Amle.) I want to know that. 

Ade. I am going out and 1 wish you to accompany me. 



1^ 

VaR; With pleasure, but yoU must change youl' dress. 

Ade. I want to go as I am. 

Vak. Par Jon me, but it will be witliout tne. 

PiL. (Aside.) And me, too. 

Vak. You are a ver}^ beautiful young lady. 

PiL. Just what I said. {Business^ repeated.) 

Ade. ( T0 Varnuh) You wont be my escort ? 

Var. Does an emancipated lady want an escort ? 

Ade . Ah ! 

PiL. {Aiside.) Oho! 

Var. {Going C.) I will bring the weapons as agreed. Should I succeed in 
convincing you of the falsity of your convictions, I shall look upon it as an atone- 
ment for my former sins. {Ooing.) Good bye ! 

{8Jie bows him off, and remains some time in meditation ) 

PiL. I'm glad he's gone. How delighted she'll be to find he is not the real 
man after all . He was pretty rough on the Miidler, though . 

{Adelaide suddenly stamps her foot, pulls off her hat molently, flings it across the 
stage in the direction of Pilbox, without looking where it goes. It strikes him 
in the face and he falls back over the sofa.) 

PiL. Hallo! Look here ! Pm not the hat-rack ! 

Ade. {Going to him and assisting htm up.) Mr. Varnish, Fm very sorry. In- 
deed, I did not mean to — 

PiL. It was you, was it? Oh, never mind, lean stand it. 

Ade. {An.Hously.) Are you much hurt V 

PiL. No. 1 think not. Tnat is— not by the fall, what I may be internally, I 
can't say until I make a diagnosis. 

Ade. I torgot, for a moment — 

PiL. Say no more about it. Remember, though, if you are in need of an es- 
cort or a companion, I shall be most happy. 

Ade. Tnank you, Avheu I feel that I am, I shall send for you. 

PxL. I hope I shall not be kept in expectation long. Good day. (Going.) 

Ade. Good day. 

{Pilbox goes liminng off C. He meets Bonds ; they jostle each other and bow. Exit 
Pilbox. Adelaide walks to and fro much preoccupied. ) 

Bonds. Well, now that you have seen Pilbox, I hope you like him. 
Ade. {Thoughtfully aloud.) I have seen a man lor the first time. 

(E.dt L.) 

Bonds. What then am I ? My remedy seems to have had little effect on the 
disease. 

{Enter Sleuth.) 

Ah! you have come just in time. This fellow Pilbox has been here, and instead 
of otiending her as I expected, I am afraid she has taken a fancy to him. 

Sleuth. TUen he must be got out of the way. 

Bonds. Sleuth, would you propose murder to meV 

Sleuth. JSo, no! I don't mean that. But there are other ways. 

BoKDS. If we could secure his absence for a few days, we might manage to 
get Argent here and arrange things. 

Sleuth. Well, sir, 1 have oeen inquiring about him as you directed, and 
I have discovered a case in connection wiiu wnich he might be arrested. 

Bonds. That's it ! That's it ! That's what I want. But we must be careful 
and proceed legally. Come with me to the library and we'll talk it over. 

{E.vit R.) 

Sleuth. I'm ready, sir. {Alone.) Sure enough, I can easily fasten a job on 
him, and at the same time get even with him on my own account. Ha, ha ! now 
doctor the tables have turned. 



17 

Enter 8ox)hia excitedly C, carrying a large roll of manuscript 

Sop. It's monstrous ingratitude — such as the world has never before seen. — 
Ah ! a stranger. 

Sleuth, saluting. Beg pardon, ma'am, I am going to Mr. Bonds in the library, 
beg pardon. (Boicing.) 

Sop. Oh, sir, you alarmed me. 

Enter Olivia C. quietly and shyly. 
Ah! you have awakened — have you ? 

Ol. My dear aunt ! 

Sop. Don't address me in fliat style. 

Bonds, outside. Now, Mr. Sleutii ! 

Sleuth Yes, sir! {Looking at the ladies.) T wonder which of 'em it is — 
never mind, it's all the same to uie, so long as I nail him — and that I'll do at last — 
at last ! 

Exits hurriedly R. 

Sop. I, who have done so much for you, how could you be so ungrateful aa 
to fall asleep wLile the tragic muse was singino: on my tongue. 

Ol I he heat was so great, aunt, that while you were reading — 

Sop. You ought to have shivered. 

Ol. And so I did — at that terrible scene where Eaphredyta out of filial love 
submits to the pulling out of three of her jaw teeih. I was seized with a kind of 
swoon — and then I dropped asleep through weakness. 

Sop. I will admit this explanation. That it a thrilling scene — is it not ? 

Ol. I shudder when I think of it. The menacinir tyrant— the poor father on 
his knees — and the resolute daughter — then the gloomy romantic dentist. 

Sop. Quite a new idea It has never yet occurred to anyone. We have had 
heads cut off— and legs — people condemu'-d to lose their eyes, hands, toes and 
noses — we had the tortures of the inquisition — almost all other species of human 
sufiering exposed — but no one has yet seen a tooth drawn on the stage. And I in- 
ttnd to pull out three all at once. Imagine for a monient the appalling effect upon 
the audience of the entrance of the dentist carrying his enormous instruments. 
They must be very large to sustain the effect. Then extending the mouth to its 
fullest — Ah ! it will have to be a very big mouth. Yes, the acting of that part will 
depend entirely on the size ot the young lady's mouth. Let me see your's, my dear. 

Ol. sliuddering. Oli, mine is a very small one, aunt. 

Sop. Oh, yes. To be sure. That is one of the features of our family. Now, 
Olivia, I will read j'ou the second act. I have exhausted ;dl my powers on this 
play, and it will make my name famous through all the world. Wlien I am 
gatnered among the great dejid of our country, my tomb shall bear these words : 
Her life was one Tragedy. 

Ol. I'm sure your self-denii^il deserves it. 

Sop. Now lake your place. 

Ol. up stage and looking off. Ah 

Sop What is the niaiterV 

Ol. I think that is Dr. Pilbox coming in at the gate. 

Sop. aside. Doctor Pilbox ! I cannot see him liere. No one must suspect the 
sweet mystery between us. {Aloud.) My dear, I have just this instant conceived 
an idea for a new scene. I am going to my room. I am obliged to seize these 
moments of inspiration. 

She starts to exit L. very tragically a^d majestically, when she hears the near sound of 
footsteps, and she rushes off hurriedly and confused. 

Ol. I am glad she went, for I would not have them suspect how heavily this 
load of chanty Weighs upon me and how I long lo be rid of it. 

Enter Argent, C. 
Arg. Miss Bonds. 

Ol. I am very grateful for your promptness, doctor. 
Arg. I came soon, because — 
Ol. You found an engagement for me. 
Arg. Engagement I Heaven forbid. 
Ol. What? 

Arg. I came to try and dissuade you from such a purpose 
Ol. Indeed t 



18 

Arg. Yes. I don't tliink— 

Ol. That I ought to go out to teach. Why ? 

Arg. Because another missioa is given you by nature. 

Ol And that is — 

Arg. To love. And remain at home. To be a faithful wife — a good mother. 
These are proud titles, proclaimed in nature for every woman. The world looks 
upon all fulfilling these high duties, with reverence and esteem. 

Ol I— 

Arg. No, don't answer. That is, not now ; not to-day. I will come again. 

Ol. Are you going? 

Arg. Yes, I had — that is— something of that kind to say in a week or two, 
but what was to come first I forgit, and the last part rushed in first— mixed up the 
whole matter. I hope } ou will pardon me. 

Ol. I have nothing to excuse. 

Arg. That's very kind of you. That is to say I'm very pressed for time. I 
had a great many things to tell you, and others I was to think about. 

Ol. Why don't you remain then and let me hear them. 

Arg. Because I should be sure to tell you the things I am only to think 
about, and ir. is too soon yet. Don't you forget the love part though. Tiiat was 
all right. There's heaps of love in the world — and there ought to be, there are so 
many lovely crcdtures in it. Oh, Lord! Good bye, I must go now. I'd come 
again to-morrow. (Going.) 

Ol. Do. 

AftG. Yes, and the next day. 

Ol. Yes. 

Arg. And the day after that. 

Ol. If you like. 

Arg, Id like to stay here altogether. Heavens! Goodbye. 

(He kisses her hand, and turning suddenly, runs against Shoutloud, hitting him in 
the stomach with his head and almost upsetting him. Slwutloud is entering with 
his hat on the back of his htad, and looking about him like a man not quite sober 
in a strange place.) 

Shotjt. What do you mean ? Confound it sir ! 

Arg. Who are you ? What do you want ? 

Shout. What are you doing in my gard-en, sir? , 

Arg. Your garden ? What do you mean, sir? 

Shout. I mean what I say, sir. 

Ol. The gentleman is mistaken, I think ; he lives on the other side of the 
street. 

Shout. What ! (Looking round. ) To be lure — not my garden — made a mis- 
take — beg pardon. 

Arg. Do you know this fellow, Miss Bonds ? 

Ol. I do not. 

8novT., angrily. Fellow— sir! 

Arg. knocking off Shoutloud's hat, which he 7ias forgotten. You are in a lady's 
presence, you impudent scoundrel. 

Shout. You shall answer to me for this. 

Arg, I am quite r.«ady. 

Ol. Oh, Doctor ! let me beg of you not to quarrel with this man. 

Shout. I'll have your head for this, you booby. I'll look at daylight through 
you. 

Ol. Oh, Doctor ! Doctor I 

Shout. Yes, sir ! Yes, sir ! I'll blow you all to pieces. Now, by all 

Arg. This lady does not want you here. Get out. {CatcMt him and flings 
him off. Noise outside of his falling.) 

Shout, outside. I'll make you pay for this— pistols — and to the death. 

Ol Oh, heaven ! What will become of me ! 

Arg. I U take care of you. And at any time that you are in need of a pro- 
tector, send for me. (Aside ) Now, I've done it. (Aloud.) Good-bye. 

Bxit a 

Ol. Doctor! Doctor! Gone! What an unhappy girl I am. Heisj^oingto 
fight a duel, and on my account. Oh, dear! oh, dear ! What am I to do ? That 
Mr. Shuuiloud is a Very dangerous man I've heard people say he is the most 
violent man in the street, and he is one of the best shots in the city. I will write 
to the doctor and ask him not to fight that duel. I'll tell him that I believe all he 



19 

says is ri^ht, and that I— good gracious, what is the matter with me ? His safety 
seems my only cure. 

Enter Sadeye. 

Sad. Miss Bonds, if you please. 

Ol. Oh, sir ! I'm very s^lad to see you. 

8a^d. aside. N«w ! Here's anothpr — why can't they let me alone. 

Oj.. Excuse me ; but you know Dr. Pilbox? 

Sad. I hare that honor; 1 ant his partner. 

Ol. And the Doctor— Doctor Pili>ox? 

Sad. You know him? {Anile.) This is another kind of complaint. 

Ol Is he — Is he practised in swords — and — and pistols ? 

Sad. Pistols ! Pistols— loaded pistole— never saw one in his life. 

Ol. tereaming and fainting. Oh ! Oh ! 

Sat>., c'ltching he)'. Come, come, this won't do young lady. I'm up to this 
sort of thing you kmow — it won't do ; I've seen it too often She has fainted ; what 
on earth am I to do? I can't drop her and run away. {Voices outside.) Somebody 
coming— now I m in for it. The Doctor by all that's powerful, and this is his — 
Miss! Miss! — some one's coming — a whole lot of people ihe entire family — say 
— say — here's your mother ! 

Ol. jumping up. Oh ! 

Sad. Some oae's coming — 

Ol. Thank you — never mind what I said to you — I'll write to him. 

Exit B. 

Sad. Yes, do ; but what am I to say. He must not catch me here. Where 
am I to go. Ah ! behind that tree. Oh, woman ! woman ! when will you cease 
tormenting me. {Conceals himself ieldnd tree.) 

Enter Pilbox C. 

PiL. Not here ! Well, I must wait. These fellows might have put it off, at 
Itast, until I had settled this love aSair. Well, I can't help it. 'Twould never do 
though to leave town without seeing her ; she would be sure to feel slighted. 

Enter Varnish loiih foils. C. 

Var. Ah ! You here ? 

PiL. Yes ; but what brought you. Oh, I see, going to carry out that joke. 
By the way, old fellow, don't you thing you are rather interfering in this matter ? 

Var. By no means 

PiL. I have made an impression, I can tell you. 

Var Have you though ':* 

PiL. Yes, sir; 0, 1 know a woman when I see one; treated me coldly, rather 
impolitely, at first, then with feigned inditiference. Hypocricy — nothing but hy- 
pocricy, behind which she conceals her feelings. Women are very skilful at that 
sort of thing. 

Var. I wish you joy. 

PiL. Thank you, old fellow. I knew you'd be glad of it. (Sadeye steals off.) 
I never doubted it would be all right in the end, but I did not expect quite so sud- 
den a — By the way, I am going to give her a few days longing for me. I am called 
out of town on professional business. 

Var. Indeed ! 

PiL. Yes ; but then — Ah — I forgot, there's the other one. 

Var. Which other one ? 

PiL. The languishing Olivia. She gave me such a look, O, such a look! I 
must be careful, or I shall get that poor girl fond of me. What a pity it is we can't 
double ourselves 

Var. It is too bad in your case. Well, as I have an appointment I will leave 
you. Good bye. 

PiL. Good-bye. 

Varnish meets Sadeye, C. 

Sad. Seen the doctor ? 

Var, Yes ; there he is. 

Exit C. 

Sad., giving letters. I was handed these letters as I left the office, and as I was 
passing this way, I brought them with me on the chance of meeting you. 



20 

PiL. opening letters. Thanks. Be with you in a moment. 

Sad. going up. Don't hurry on my account. 

PiL. reading. " Sir : To-morrow morning at 5 o'clock, behind the big beach 
on the north road, outside the park. — Pistols. — That lady's favor shall not protect 
you.— Shoutloud." The devil ! A challenge ! How did I come by this ? And for 
a lady— Adelaide, of course — Shoutloud ? This must be the rival the father favors. 
When she hears this she is lost. The man who fights for a woman is irresistible. 

{Beading another letter.') 

" Dear sir" — Ah, a lady's hand — "No doubt you will receive a challenge. 
Do not accept it — if you take any interest in one who would be disconsolate if any- 
thing happened to you. — Olivin Bonds " And I only saw that girl for a moment. 
How could she know about the duel ? Ah, well, what women don't know is not 
worth finding out. Two conquests at one stroke. This is tremendous. 

{Opening another letter.) 

"What's this — verses — another Bonris. The banker's sister. I've heard of her. 
An appointment. I shdl be there. (Opens another letter.) Another from Crujh- 
em. He's getting impatient. I must start at once. It's deuredly inconvenient 
though, in the midst of all these euffagements. Let me see. Tbe eighth going — 
the ninth thfre — the tenth returning. I can't be back in less than three days. 
(Turning io Sad ) Ah, Doctor! I am going out of town for a lew days, see to 
everything at the officp. 

Sad dmnn L. All risht. 

PiL. If I remain here until Miss Bonds comes in I shall lose the train. You 
just wait and apologize for my having to luave so suddenly without seeing her. 

Sad Certainly. 

PiL. Goodbye. {Going C.) 

Sad. Good bye. That suits me exactly. The old lady seems to be matrimoni- 
ally inclined. She is good company, and so I don't mind listeaing to the rest of the 
tragedy. I wonder where she is 

Su. {Entering C) What a funny looking fellow. A regular oddity. 

Sad. This place is running over with women. 

Su. What are you doing here, young rpan ? 

Sad. Young man. He, he ! That s good ! Young man. That's the only 
woman I ever met who did not make an attack on me. Young man. He, he ! I 
like that. Young man. I feel like turning the tables on her. 

ISu. Do you hear me ? AVhat are j^ou doing here young man? 

Sad. I didn't know till I saw you, young woman. 

Su. And now that you see me what are you going to do about it, young man ? 

Sad. Have a kiss, to be sure, young woman. 

Su. I'd like to see you try it. 

Sad. Would you ? Here goes, then. 

{He catches her and she struggles violently. He is just on the point of kissing her 
when Sophia enters.) 

So. {C. tragically .) Susan! 
Sad. Oh, Lord ! 

{E« drops Susan suddenly. Each takes a separate corner, leaning Sophia standing C.) 



CURTAIN. 



il 



ACT III. 



An elegant drawing room, backed fn/ a conservator ij. Window* in Flat 
JR. and L. uith damask tianfiinrjs falling to the ground. Doors H. and L. 
Bay tvindow R. Enter Adelaide ii. 

Ade. Not j^et here This is a new proof that men are always deceiving us. 
What can be the matter with nieV lam impatient to see a man I dislike— dis- 
like - yes certainly, I dislike him as well as all other men. It is very singular, 
but I seem to be at war with myself. {Hearing a footstep.') Ah! at last. {Enter 
Boiidn B.) Bother! its only ray father. 

Bonis. {Joyfully.) Well, my dear, why is it you are not out. The weather 
ig beautiful, and everything is Invely out of doors. 

Ade. You won't go with me, so I must wait f(^r Doctor Pilbox. 

Bonds. I am afraid your patience will be tired out, he has left town. 

Ade. What? 

Bonds. He has gone away, I hear, on important business. A consultation in 
the country. 

Adr. Impossible ! 

Binds. {Rubbing Ms handle joyfully.) It is quite true. 

Ade. I can scarcely believe that. He is, at least, a gentleman. 

Bonds. It is so nevertheless. He wont be back lor a fortnight. 

{Enter Varnish B.) 

Ade. {Pointing to Varnish. ) Ah ! you see, I thought you were mistaken. 

Bonds. {Asfde.) The devil ! 

Ade I have been expecting you. 

Var. You are very good. 

Bonds ( To Varnish. ) Didn't you go out of town ? 

Ade. Surely not, for he is here. 

Bonds. You intended going though ? 

Vau. No, sir, I intended to come here. 

Bonds. But I was told you had gone to a consultation in the couutrj. 

Ade. No doubt, my dear father, but you were misinformed. 

Bonds. (Aside mystified.) Well, this beats — 

Ade. {Insinuatingly.) Father, would you mind — 

Bonds. {Mwin/j toioards R. of C. ) No, no, certainly not. That is to be sure. 
(Aside.) Fencing lessons ! I wish sbe'd cut his head ofl. That man will be my 
ruin. 

{Exit D. R.) 

Ade. {Putting Tierself into position.) I am ready, doctor. 
Var. Well, let's begin. First, put on your glove. {She puts it on.) 1 brought 
a light rapier for you, as it will be easier to manage. 

Ade. Very good ! I maj^ be stronger than you think- 

Var. Now, keep your arm straight and bend your body forward. 

(Ihits Tier in position, toucliing her as gently as possible. Adelaide R. holding her 
weapon in an uneasy attitude, yet firmly. Showing awkxcardly that slie it at 
ease. ) 

Var. The paint of your sword must be leveled at the left eye of your adver- 
sary — thus. 

{He stands L on guard. She starts back, putting up both hands, dropping th£ 
sword, whmh she picks up again.) 

Ade. Wait, wait, you musn't hit hard at first, you know. 



22 

Var. I wont hurt you. Now watch . If I strike down on your head you 
must parry in this way. {Showinq her prime parade.) 
Ade. (Imitating awkwardly.) Like that. 
Vae. No, no! Lift your arm higher. 
Ade. (Lifting too much ) Is that i ight ? 
Var. Not exactly. But never mind. On guard ! 

(She throws her body back and extendi her arm to full length, turning back her 
head so that she canUt see him. ) 

Var. Throw your body forward and look at me. 

{She taken a »tep in advance but keeps the same position. ) 

Adk There ! 

Var. Now, look at me. 

Ade. I'm watching you. 

Vae. But you must face me. 

Ade. I'm not afraid of that. 

{She stands straight up before him and drops the point of the weapon on the ground.) 

Var. Now, I am going to strike. 

(Jle raises the sword and she bends hack as fur as possible, liolding the rapier out 
with both haiuls. ) 

Var. That's a capital position, but it rather invites attack. Strike at me. 

{She strikes at him with all her power. He parries. ) 

Var. That's the way. Once more. 

{She strikes and misses him. ) 
Ade. {Disheartened.) Oh, dear! 
Var. Now guard your head. 

{As he strikes she bends back. Re rapidly makes a show of hitting her. She drops 
the weapon and runs back.) 

Adb. That's enough for to-day. 

Var. Well, what do you think of it V 

Ade. It's easy, only I want practice. I did that much of it well enough. 

Vab. Yes, I think you'll improve after a little teaching. 

Ade {Looking at the rapier, which should be bright and new.) Sw<^rds are 
pretty things ; it's a pity they should be so dangerous. 

Var. There are many other beautiful things in life that are likewise very de- 
structive . 

Adb. And there are some destructive things that are not at all pleasant to 
look at. 

Var. You mean men. 

Ade. And you mean women. 

Var. Some women.'* 

Ade. I should like to hear what you thinV of women and — me. 

Var I think you were seized with a caprice you will forget. 

Ade. No, no ! I am serious. 

Var. You undoubtedly mean to be. 

Ade. But that is not answering my question Wbat you think of me ? 

Var. I think this dress does no justice to your beauty. 

Ade. You will not understand me. 

Var. {Taking her hand.) Perhaps I cannot — perhaps I dare not — at least 
not now. Give me a little time, and then, when I feel 1 better understand the sub- 
ject, I may give you an opinion. For the present, good bye. It is a very agree- 
able study, and one I shall pursue most faithfully. Good bye. 

(ExitD.E.) 

Ade. (Musing.) He cannot. He dare not, at least not now. 

{Enter Bonds D. L.) 



Bonds. He's gone, is he. How can you put up with that fellow. Fencing 
lessons. What nonsense. Now tell me honestly, do you like him? 

Ade. {Meditatively.) I rannot. I «?are not, at least not now.— 

Bonds. What ? 

Ade. Give me a little time, and then, when I feel I better understand the 
subject I may give you an opinion. For the present, good bye I^ is a very agree- 
able study, and one I shall pursue most faithfully. Good bye. Good bye. 

{Exit p. L.) 

Bonds. Mad as a March hare. He's turned her brain ! She can't tell me. 
Now we are in for it. No use beating about the bush any longer, something must 
be done to get this fellow out of the way. 

{Enter Sleuth, D. R.) 

What's the matter now? 

Sleuth. Mr. Argent told me a few minutes ago there was no hurry about 
that affair. He is engaged examining some verj- important accounts and will not 
be able to call on you for two or three days. 

Bonds . So much the better, we gain time. Sleuth, you managed that letter 
business badly. 

Sleuth. Then it is the first time in my life I bungled anything. 

Bonds, sadly. Pilbox is not gone away. 

Sleuth, confidently. Yts, he is. 

Bonds, in despair. No, he isn't. 

Sleuth. I saw him go. 

Bonds. You were mistaken. 

Sleuth. To make quite sure, I asked the policeman on duty at the depot 
whether he knew the gentleman with the red-lined overcoat, who was just enter- 
ing the car. O, yes— he says — well, that's Doctor Pilbox. He had scarcely said 
that whea the train started and off went our man. I could not be mistaken — we 
were in the same class at Bellevue. {Aside ) He disgraced me before the whole 
college for a boyish indiscretion, but I'll be even with him. — Yes, I'll bring shame 
and degradation on him, as surely as he ruined me. 

Bonds. No doubt — no doubt. But you failed this time. He was here two 
minutes ago. 

Sleuth. Something strange about that. He must have got a cue one way or 
another. 

Bonds. How am I to get rid of him? 

Sleuth. Try him with a little money — he wants it badly. 

Bonds. He refused that once betore. 

Sleuth. The case was different. Then — you offered him money to c«iiie 
here — now you want him t» get out. 

Bonds. That's true. But if he refuses I can't forbid him the house because 
of my daughter. 

Sleuth. Never fear — he'll keep away. I've got something on him now that 
will repay us for all the trouble we've been at on nis account. 

Bonds. I hope so— I hope so. Go down to the library and make out that 
list for the bank immediately. Here, go this way ! 

Puts Mm off to L. 

Bonds. I must put Susan on the watch, I want to know exactly when and 
how often he comes here in my absence. (Looking off on both sides.) I wonder if 
I can get to her without my sisters knowledge. Ah 1 here she comes now. {Enter 
iSusan M.) Susan! 

Su. Yes, sir . 

Bonds. How would you like to earn a $50 bill ? 

Su. How would I liKe to earn a $50 bill? I never had one, so I'd like to 
earn it very much. 

Bonds. Very well, you can earn a $50 bill by keeping your eyes open and 

letting me — 

bophia lieard ouistda. 

Su. Oh I Sir- 

BoNDS. Fitty dollar bills are not picked up in the street, and now, if you want 
to get one easily, do as I tell you. Hush I— here's my sister. She's not to know 



24 

anything about it ; she'd have it all over the town in an hour. I'm going to write 
my letters. (^Aside ) I'll take Sophia out to a Dry goods store and give her the 
slip there. {Aloud.) I'll tell you what I want presently. 

Su. Very well, sir. 

Bonds. Not a word to any one ! 

Su. No, sir — not a word. 

Bonds. And be in the way when I come back. 

Exit B. L. 

Su. Yes, sir. Fifty dollars! A new dress — new bonnet — new boots — new 
gloves — and the sunny side of the street on the way from church. 

Enter Sophia D. R 

So. Ah ! Susan. There you are! Draw that table a little this way. There 
— thauks. He can sit there, (Pointing L.) and I here. (Pointinn R.) In this 
position he can hear and see me best. Now, you may go. 

Su. Thank you, mam. (Laughinj, aside.) Wonder, who she's got coming? 

Ex. R. 

So. What a delightful evening I shall have— the Doctor will be here. I find 
in him a sympathetic snul. {Doorbell r.) That must be he. When I read the 
first act to him, he never uttered a word— he was so transported— carried away— by 
the soarinc; language and inspiring theme. He is the first to understand me— the 
first to enter into the spirit of my work. Fortune has at length been kind. He was 
sorely wanted in my dreary life. Perhaps— I don't know— my devotion to the 
muses — 

Enter Sadeye timid y R. 

Ah, my dear Doctor, welcome, welcome— a thousand times. Dear, dear Doc- 
tor, I longed for your coming— I hungered for the moment that would bring you 
to me. 

Sad., aside. The old girl improves on acquaintance. {Aloud.) Your— 

So. Not a word. — Let me read the eloquence of your glorious eyes. Doctor, 
I am fond of writing. 

Sad. That is easily seen . 

So. Th'ink you — come a little closer. ('She extends her hand to him, and when 
he is holding it she raises it in such a manner that lie is compelled to kiss it,) Do you 
know, I am proud of your ki^sintr my hand. 

Sad. Are you? {Aside.) Then you shall be prouder. (He kisses it again.) 

So. Indeed, I am. 

Sad. You shall be proudest— more proudest^most proudest— proudestissimist 
(Kissing her hand several times— aside. I like this. 

So. Doctor Doubledose Pilbox, the great physician, poet and champion of an 
oppressed sex kisses m}'' hand — which was, at all limes, tm act of homage. Don't 
you teel how grateful it must be to me, as I dare flatter myself, it is not only a 
token of your magnificent^ gallantry, but a recognition of my poor merit. 

Sad., aside. And wealth, i Aloud.) Unquf stionably. 

So. , noticing him lookinj at her hand. You are looking for ink stains ©n my 
hand. -» 

Sad., languishingly Oh! how you punish me. 

So., pohilng to a ling on the hand he is holding. The idea of this ring — yes, it 
is pretty— I had it made lo order. Tue conception was my own — white, red, green, 
blue and black— make up the poem. An epic. You have already devined it.— For- 
get me not — 

Sad., very affeclionately and look'ng at her languishingly . Who could? 

So., covimuing much pleaded. While is innocence— truth. 

Sad., same bumness. How beautifully expressed. 

So., hlushingly. Red is love. 

Sad., as de. 1 knew that would come in —I'm burning up— pulse 10001. 

So. Life has acquired an object. 

Sad., aside. In a tragedy. 

So. Green brings rays of hope. (She looks at Mm archly, he returns it exira- 
vaganVy.) Blue, fidelity. 

Sad. The man who could be unfaithful to you ought to have the blues for- 
ever. 

So. Black, death— sealing fidelity, as it does life. How do you like it ? 



25 

Sad, Amazingly— only the death— he admitted to such sweet companionship 

— should never die. 

So. Ob ! Doctor — life would be a dream of hliss. 

Sad. It would— it would. (A-i'de.) If Boils only saw me now— she'd have 
n fit. My eyes have been blind to my merits all my life— they are opened at last. 

So., taking up the mnnuscr'pt. Now, I wil read you the last act 

Sad., an'de. I wish it were ttie last pajre. 

So. (Heading.^ Torture chamber in the vaults of the inquisition. 'Door 
hdl R. twice.) Good gracious, who can that be. (^Both rising quickly. Sndeye 
(darmed and nnxioit-i.) 

Sad I'm afraid — 

So. No danger. You can step into the waiting room at the head of the 
s air.«, as soon as they pass up I will release you. 

(Arravges papers on table so that no one shotiM see tJiem.) 

Sad. {Taking Ids Tint and moving nervously towards door R.) Y — es, thank — 
you — I — 

PiL. (Outside R.) I can find the wav 

Sad. Pilbox! There'll be murder. What? Where? 

( Looking around the room rapidly and seeing the damask hangings R, gets %ind<r theni.^ 

So, {Without turning, arranging the papers.) How provoking! I thought 
I h' y were all out. Now, my dear, — {Enter Pilbox.) A stranger! 

PiL. (Entering extrarngantly R. ) The stars have come to lend th-'ir light to the 
briiihtest and fairest of their sifters. 

''So. {Bashfully.) Sir, I don't know. (Aside.) Dear me, where's the doctor ? 

PiL. [Seeing jmpers on the table ) No apologies, I beg. You were sacrificing 
to the muses. It needs no explanation. 

So. (Same play.) I don't understand. 

PiL. Why I came so late. It was a chance that I had the opportunity of ren- 
dering you my homage at all. 

So. (Aside.) This man confuses me. 

PiL. I came near being the victim of a shameful hoax — under pretence of a 
consultation in the country. 

So. Then you — 

PiL. Departed of course for the place. As Ileft the cars to take the stage, 
who !-hould I meet but Ciushem — Dr. Crushem — never wrote me— had no consult- 
ation — never had one— had heard of such things, but never had one. Back I 
flew by the next train, and on the wings of love, and here I am. Yes, I am here 
delighting in the pleasure of beholding you. 

So. {A tempting to interrupt him.) But, sir, I can't think — 

PiL. Who played me that trick ; nor I either. Some vile scoundrel. Never 
mind. ( Throwing himself into a chair. ) It was a failure, and here I am. 

Sad {Putting his head out.) I'm sorry for it. 

So. But explain ? 

PiL. How can I explain what I do not understand. Let us waste no more 
lime in speculation. You are an author? 

So. Ah, you have heard then ? 

PiL. Of course I have. Oh, I bless the hour that brings such happiness. 
Permit me. {Kisses her hand.) I have long been an admirer of you'- works 
Aside.) I wonder what they are about. (Aloud.) How happy I am that I can 
l)rint a kiss on this hand that has written so much that is beautiful. 

Sad. (Patting his head out.) Now lie's going for her. 

So. (Aside.) I don't know who he is. A gentleman certainly. (Aloud.) 
Sir, it is true there were sacred hours in my life when the uiuses smiled upon me. 
but what I produced fell far short of my intention. 

PiL. To be sure— to be sure. (Ecalted.) Away with f^dse modesty— and 
welcome truth. You are the most gifted of all our lady poets. Believe me, I do 
not flatter. My severity has passed into a proverb. 

So . Then you are— 

PiL. No censor for your works, but an enthusiastic admirer. 

So. I have no words to express my gratitude. (Aside.) A great man, evi- 
dently. (Aloiid.) I have written a tragedy— I will read you the first act. 

Sad., same bus. Do, and I'll come in at the curtain. 

PiL , starting up. Oh ! for Heaven's sake ! 



26 

So. Why, what is the matter? 

PiL. I am— I have— I must — 

So. What is it ? 

PiL., remembering suddenly. To tell you the irvAh—i showing Utter, aside.) 
Yes, a patient. Yes, bunions— wants pills. 

So. A challenge ! 

PiL. O, yes, to be sure. I had forgotten it in my desire to come to you.— 
I must get seconds — make my will -transfer my palients and ihen look after my 
theory of the liver. 

So., enthusiastica'ly. A duel— bow romanlic ' 

PiL They don't always end that way. (Aside.) Still I would rather be killed 
by a sword than the first act of a tragedy. 

So. I think I have produced sumethine that will astonish the world. 

PiL. Not a doubt of it. If my little atfair comes ofi satisfactorily. 

Susan entering R. 

Su. Mr. Bonds is waiting for you, mam. 

bo. I'm coming. ( To Pilbo.r. ) Will you excuse me a moment? 
PiL. Most certainly. (Aside.) Several. 

So, going B. I must bring the Doctor and introduce him to this, elegant 
stranger. {Looking at Pdboxfrom D. R.) He is a splendid man. 

E.v't D. R. 

PiL. That was a lucky interruption. If ever she crot at that i\i\r>g (Pow ting 
mss. on table.) I would have been obliged to faint, or have a fit or do someihing 
extraordinary. I wonder how long she's going to be. I begin to have enough of 
this. I gave that little girl who opened ihe door two dollars for telline me they 
were all out but Miss Sophia It's amaz'ng how people will lie for a little money. 

Sad. ^Putting his head out between the curtains.) Ha, hum ! 

PiL (Turning sharply. Sad. withdraws his 7iead.) Come in ' Ha, no one. T 
certainly heard somebody make a very singular remark. I'm off, I've had enough 
of this. Yes, but how am I to get off. (Ooing toioard R.) Old Brnds is down 
there somewhere, which makes that exit useless If he were to discover me h(^r«' 
all niy plans would be ruined at once. Tt was risky coming, more especiid y 
as I suspect that detective has been watching me lately. I wonder where this door 
(at door L.) leads to ? Probably to the back of the house where I might be able to 
get into the garden and so out in the side street. I'll try it. (He opens the d<i<>r 
and as quickly shuts it.) I'm lost. There's the very man coming up the s'airs. 
Fortunately he didn't see me. If I could only find some place. (Noticing hmg- 
ings of window L.) Ah, this will do. Catch me coming to see an old woman 
again . 

Sad. (Putting his head out.) Or me either. 

(Enter Sleuth D. L.\ 

Sleuth. Mr. Bonds, Here are the — gone. He must have forgotten me. I'll 
follow him down to tie bank. 

(Exit R shutting D. ) 

PiL. (Coming forward.') Do, and I'll go the other way before you 

(Going L ) 

Sad. (Coming forward.) Well, I'm having a fine time of it. Just my luck. 
I'm nearly suffocated. Old Bonds has engaged that detective to watch him 
He's probably left the hous^ by this time, and the garden gate and <-he side street 
would be just the thing tor me. (Opens door L., slapping itto immediately and run- 
ning unuer the dama k of window L. ^ Just my luck. 

(Enter Pilbox wildly L.) 

PiL (Gapping.) Just come in — one minute more and — 

Bonds (Outside R.) Chain the door, so as to guard against night keys. 

PiL. (Amazed.) Chain the door. 

Bonds. (Outside R.) Now, Susan, come up stairs. 



2T 

PrL. Mv practice and the Mudler gone at one stroke. 

Sad. {Putting out head.) Here's luck. {Retiring.) 

Bo-HH?,. outside, no' se of chain. That's right— come up here now. >Pilboxgeta 
under hangings of window L. where Sadeye is ali eady concealed. They scramble and 
dispute and appear once or tioice, and ^nsappear as Bonds entns L ) 

Bonds. I took her to the trimming counter— that's her weakness. Give that 
woman a box of Ruches and you've fastened ht r lor an hour. I desired the young 
man to put out all the trimmings he had and I'd pay for whatever she bought. 
She was deep in the trimmings in half a minute and so I easily gave her the slip. 

Pic, putting out his head. I'd like to give you the slip. 

Sad , sayne business. And so would I. 

JEnter Susan E. 

Su. No ore can come in now, sir. without ringing the bell. 

Bonds. Very good — come here and sit down. 

Su., coqueltishiy. Oh! Mr. Bonds, I — 

PiL., putting his 7iead out. The servant girl. 

bAD., sa77ie bus. The nld scoundrel — $50. 

Bonds. I need not ask if you know all that is going on in this house at 
present— you're a woman — you live here— that's enough. You saw this Doctor 
Pilbox who was here a while ago 

Su. Yes, sir, I opened the door for him. 

Bonds. I want to know each time he comes to this house. What he does 
outside I have caretuUv watched. 

PiL., putting out head. I thought so. {Retiring. 

Sad , -anie business. So did I. {Retiring.) 

Bonds. And I w is i to koow ho a' often he is received here. Not a word of 
this lo any one, aad above all to Miss Sophia, and be careful you don't drop a hint 
about my coming back here. {Asid.) If site suspected wbat I have done, my 
control over this household won Id be gone forever. 

So. (Outside R.J There's some scandalous proceeding in it, I know. 

Bo^D9. Good Lo d ! {Looking round and running to windoioL., where Sadeye 
and P.lbox are concealed, and getting behirid the damask. Enter Sophia talking as she 
comes.) Stay where you are. 

So. Pretty conduct in a respectable house at this time of day. ( On stage.) 
You forget, miss, there is a basement door to this house. Who have you had 
here and where have you put him ? A front door chained and — I'll clear the house 
of every one of 301. 

Bunds, shouting Oh ! my corns. Thunder and lightning ! thieves ! {Sovhia and 
Susan scream, and rush off R. and L.) Murder! Police! Thieves! CHe hops 
downstage on one ler/. Sadeye follows him, < xpostulating in dumb show, h'lldinn his 
stomach Pilbox after him holding his back Sadeye goes down R , Bonds C, Pdbox 
L. Come to rob tae house in the midille of the day and murder me ! AVhtre's 
the police? Oh, my foot! Police! Police! {Rushing off limping R., slumting.) 
Police! Po ce! 

Sad. Looking at Pilbox.) Just my luck. 

Pjl. {Looking at Sadeye .) Nice mess you've made of it. 

Sad. What s to be done? 

PiL. {Pointing to open window R.) There's an open window. I'm going 
through it. 

{Re jumps through the loindow, and Bonds cries out outside R ) 

Sad. Murder I thought that would happen. Just my luck, I'll try the 
garden way. 

{Ek is L. Stage vacant a moment, and Bonds is brought on by two men, with his 
hat broken, dirty and d lapidated as f knocked over. He groans and cries with 
pain. Siphia, Susan, servants rush on from various entrances, and surround 
tJie chair they sit him in C.) 



CURTAIN. 



ACT IV. 



G-arden of the IToiase. 

Bonds, discovered seated L. I'm at my wit's ends I don't know what to do w'th 
this fellow. He has refused m^' offer of a thousand dollars, to keep away from tbe 
house; the consultation in the country w.is a failure, and here I am as badly off as 
ever. 

Elder Susiin C. 
Stj. Mr. Sleuth, sir. 

Bonds. Send him here. {Ex, Susan.) Just in time. Something must be 

done. 

Enter S en(h C. 

Sleuth. We are all right at last, Mr. Bonds, I've got him tight. 

Bonds You have— on whnt? 

Sleuth. Yes, sir — I have — md badly. (Taking out paper, xchic'i he shows lo 
Bonds.) There's a warrant for bis arrtst, is'-ued by the Grand Jury. 

Bonds. Good Gracious ! 

Sleuth. Yes, sir— State prison, sure. ^ Aside.) That'll be d;sgra e etough, I 
think, for a d< ctor. 

Bonds. State prison— good Heavens ' What has he done? 

Sleuth. Fougbt a duel in the park with a Mr. Shoutloud, who lives on the 
opposite side of the street here. I've gut all the seconds as witnesses, af d numbers 
of others, who will swear to have been present. I am after him now and will have 
him caged before to-morrow morning. 

Bonds, shaking hands with Sleuth. You have workf d well, and I shall remember 
it. I am sorry though his case is so bad, it would have been enough for me if he 
were kept away until I had my girl settled but, as it can't be othei wise he must 
take the result. . 

Sleuth, aside. I knew I'd get him some day. 

BoND-i. Bring me word as soon as you h'ave him. 

Sleuth. Yes, sir; the moment I turn a key on him I'll let you know. 

Bonds, shaking his hand. Do — thank you.— Good bye — succe s to you — Good 
bye! 

Ex. Slewh C. 

>ow, there's a prospect of getting things an-anged. I dare not introduce Argent to 
her yet, she would be sure to refuse hiua. This other fellow in prison, I shall make 
her understand I mean to have my way. 

Enter Olivia C. . 

Ol. Good morning, nunky. 

Bonds. Good morning — good morning, my child. Seen your cousin this morn- 
ing ? 

Ol. No, I think bbe's in her room. 

Bonds. Yes, she's in her room too njuch of late. 

Ol. I have noticed that. 

Bonds. So has every one else. 

Enter Adelaide C. 
We were talking of you, my dear. 

Ade., languidli/. Indeed 

Bonds. I was asking for you — I wanted to see you. 

Adk. I am at your service if there is anything particular. 

Bonds. Come to me in the library in a quarter of an hour. 

Ade. Certainly. 

Bonds. Thank you — my dear — ^thank you. y Going C ) Some cloud hes fallen 
on her — it makes me very unhappy to see her like this. 

Exit a 

Ade, Poor papa seems anxious about me. 
Ol. We are all anxious about you. 
Ade. And why? 
Ol. Because you are so changed of late. 



29 

At»E. Changed? — I hope not — I am not altered to you, dear. 

Ol. More to me, I laucied, than any oue else 

Ade. I am sorry you think that — wny, we were always like sisters who trusted 
implicitly in one another. 

Ol. It is not my tiult if that feeling has been di-^turbed — our confidence in each 
other dissipi. eared, whea you took up tbose ideas cf emaicipation. 

Ade. Let us renew our friendship now ou a . tr.mger fuoting than ever 

Oii. I should be very happy. 

Ade., going to her and eximding her hand. There's my baud— in token, dear. 

Ol., taking it, and warmly. I. am very glad to take it. 

Ade. Forj^iven then ! 

Ol. Yes lorgot^en. 

Ade. Ihank you, dear. 

Ol. There is somettjing on your mind, Adelaide. What is it? — Confide in me ! 

Ade., dreaniily, Nothiug ui .my consequence. My head i^ a littie troubled with 
various thought-^, but I understand none of them at present. When £ do, I will tell 
you what tht-y are, dear. 

Ol., smiling. Only your head ! — not your heait ! — are you sure it is not that 

young painter? 

ADE., angrily. You insult me — that intolerab'e egotist? 

Ol. Has he been to see you ag un? 

Ade. Yes, — he came tbis morning. He talked a good deal of nonsense — and 
I dismissed him. 

Ol. Perhaps there is some one else. 

Ade You know what i thiok of men. 

Ol. Is that how you intend to show me a return of confidence, evading my 
questions? 

ADi;. I dout know that I have any to give. 

Ol. Now, to show you that I really wish to renew our former good relatious — I 
will truht you with soaieihing. 

Ade. curious and moving close lo her. i o, dear — I know you must have some- 
thing woith listening to. 

Ol. 1 have fouud a man whom I can one day love. 

Ade. Have you though ! Who is it — who is it ? 

Ol. You know him. 

Ade. I do ? Who is he ? 

Ol. Doctor Pilbox, 

Ade., starling up as if slung painfully. You sieaking traitor ! 

Ol Adblaide !■ — 

Ade., violently. Have you dared to fall in love with him? 

Ol. And why not ? 

Ade. Does he like you? 

Ol. He has not told me so — but 

Ade., as.sureii. Not told you so ! — nor mi' do a projjosal? 

Ol. No. — Why, how excited you a e — I cm't imdeistand you. 

Ade., controlling lerself. And you think he returns your love? 

Ol. If i may depend upou my eyts. 

Ade., quickly. You m».st not—you must not. 

Ol. And wny ? 

ADE. Ttiey have deceived yo,i. He does not love you — the thing 's impossible. 

Ol. You are incompiehensR.le. 

Ade., hillrly . He uevcr dreamt of loving you. 

Ol. How do you know ttiat? 

Ade It is a f olisu imagination in you. Bani-h it from your mind. 

Ol. You are getting so violent that i am afraid to remain witu jou. {Gomg.) 

Ade., stoppimj her u)td c'langing htr mannvr. ^o, d ar, don't go — dou't— 1 beg 
your 1 arcion— 1 was in a passion, and I had no right to speak to j^ou like tbat. — I am 

very unhappy. ^Bursting t)du tears.) You are joung and beau 'if ul, aud what 

men call sensible. He — he O, dear — 0, dear ! I m a wretched girl. 

Flinging hersef on Sofa L. 

Ol Tell me, what is the matter ! 

ADE. Ni thing, no, iiing. 1 thought he could never love anyone. — that such a 
thing could not couue into liis life — that — 
Ol. This is all very strange to me. 

Ade., as if suddenly nmembering. How did you become acquainted with him? 
Ol. Well, you see, dear, i took it into my head to get a situation. 
Ac£. You ? — -what &n idea i 



so 

Oh. And I went to him for advice. 

Ade., astonished. Behind my back — O — ! {Checking herself) 

Oh. I slid not want acyone to know of it until all was arrauLed. 

Ade. That was why you left the room so suddenly the firht time he called on 
me. 

Ol. He dissuaded me from the career I had chosen. Gave m so many leasona 
against it that I became doubtful. 

Ade., inquiringly. Then, he calle 1 on you? 

Ol Twice, but only for a shoit time. 

ADE , in suppressed exciUment. Aud made an avowal. 

Ol. 1 have already told you, no word of that kind has parsed between us. 

Ade. And what makes you suppost- he is in love with you? 

Ol. What a question from a woman. 

Ade., dreaming. You are right — such a ihing can only le felt. 

Oh., suspiciously. Can it be 

Ade. What? 

Ol. That you like him ! 

Ade. You know I hate men. 

Ol. I know you say so. i cannot think it is bo, because you told me you were 
disappointed in Dr. Pilbox. 

Ade. a nd so I was. 

Ol. You said he was pr ud and arrogant. 

Ade. He certainly is proud. 

Ol. I found him amiable, though singular in some things. 

Ade. And if he should propose to you 

Ol. To be candid with yon, 1 sh ud scarcely say no. 

Ade. Then let ma tell yon, he is not so near it as ,, ou think. 

Ol. I cannot under^taud you. 

Ade., changing her manner. Don't try to. There, dear — I am out of humor to- 
day. Bear with me a little — I am sorely tritd. 

Enter Soplda C. 

So. Why, Olivia. I have been looking for you all over the place. 

Ol. WLat do you want, dear aunt? 

Bo. 1 intended to read the last act of my play to you. 

Ol., sighing. I am at >our service. 

So. (jniidien, as I find you together, I \?ill make you happy with some good 
news. 

Ol. Do, aunt, we want a little brightness very much. 

So "What is the matter with Adelaide? {Addaide is- lying nonchalenily on the 
sofa.) She IS not attending to me. 

Ol., excusing her. She hits a headache, I think. 

fcjo. A pet wish of mine has been gratified. I have made the acquaintance ol 
Dr. Pilbox. 

ADE. Are you going to mai ry him too ? 

Ol., upbra'dimjly. Adelaide 

So. And if i said yes, would that be anything extraordinary. Do you think 
that, because you are-a few years jounger, you ought to be privilegi d? Men of 
mind rartly notice bu s — they mote admire the full b own rose, when all its 
Iragrmce is in its richest strength. 

Ade. And the leaves are falling — which gives them a chance to examine the 
withered petals. 

so. 1 like the Doctor. He is a very superior man. Quiet, modest, talented 
aud appreciative. If ever I resolve to bless another with my hand — he will be the 
one. 

Ol. Why, my dear aunt? 

So. I'll tell you more — it only wants a word from him— a request, a declaration, 
and I should answer — Yes. 

Ale. The man 's a Mormon 

So. Unless I am mistaken — and how can a girl be mistaken on such a subject 
— 1 have made an impression on him, and may look for a propos 1 at duy momeut 

(VDE. I wish you joy ! It seems he intends to marry the whole family — my 
lather iucluded, 

So. I olten told your father he was preparing a scourge for himself in his old 
age, and my words are becoming truth. 

Ade. That's fortunate, lor it's the first time in your life you've proved yourself 
a prophet. 

So. What were you saying, Olivia ? — You are a good girl. 



31 

Ol. Dear aunt, as far as I know Dr. Pilbox 

So. What ! — do you know him too ? 

Ade, Yes, she wanted to go out teaching and asked him for advice. 
Oij., reproacnf ally. Adelaide! 

Ade. I beg your pardon, dear— but I could not help it. 

So., aside. My niece know him — perhaps they are rivals. These are important 
matters and should be conducted carefully. — Ill heud f r the Doctor at once 

Going. 

Ol. But, aunt, ynu were to read me the t'agedy. 

So,, relurniitrj. You are right— so I will— I shall not notice you, Adelaide. 

Ade. Thank you. 

So. I have long been accustomed i to yourruden' sses. {Gohirj C.) Come to my 
room, Olivia. Do vou still remember the end of the Fourth Act, when the powder- 
magazine is exploding ? 

Ol., iheij start to (xit G. O, certainlj'. 

So., striking an aiiitwk. And the general stands on top of the fort, flag in hand, 
shouting to his men — "Forward for the flag ! Death before dishonor ! ' 

She exits tragically, Olivia imitating her, 

Ade. He has not declared himself yet. She must be mistaken. It is impos- 
sible -false — I will not believe it ' He has said nothing to me either, but the sound 
ot his voice has a meHniag no woman could misinterpret. Aunt, too ! Oh, there is 
no dan;j;er of that. But Olivia is beautiful, and nien have strange fancies Heigho ! 
wh t has come to me, and where is my hatred of the sex Why should I hesita'e to 
CO' fet^s what stirs my heart so powerluily ? Y''es, I am in love ! He was right, whims 
and caprices vanish at its approach. I cannot help myself, I must jield. — 
Bu^ Olivia -the thought maddens me — and \et, I don't know why, a certain sort < f 
• eciirity comes to me that allaj's the pain rf jealousy. It is the assurance I draw 
fr m his look, his voice, his manner. I love him. It is my fate, and I will love him 
more deeply, more devotedly, a thousand times, than if he came wished for and sought 
aft r. >honld Olivia not be mistaken and I am wrong ! — What agony that doubt 
st r s in me. It is no use, I will not give him up. Better be happy than renowned — 
and, Oh ! what happiness it would be to find he loves me. 

Enter Susan. 

Ade. Here Sasan take this rubbish away. {Flings her the jacket and wasculine 
looking portion of her attire.) I wish I had never seen it. Get out my hmdsomest 
d esses, I intend to use them at once. {Going towards door.) I am a woman now 
above all else. 

Exit L. 

Su. Well, I'm sure — You're a woman, are you? May be, but I pity the man 
who gets you. No ute to try and find out how the current runs in this house, it 
changes too often. 

Enter Sadeye C. 

Sad. Ah ! fortunate again. Howdoyedo? 

Su. Pretty well, thank you. How are you? 

Sad Well, I am much the same. 

Su. That's some comfort. 

Sad. It is— isn't it? — We don't get much comfort in this world, do we —and we 
ought to treasure what comes. 

ISu. I hope you do. 

Sad. Well, yes — I think I make the most of my sh tc, bad as my luck is. 

Su. I hope you're good to yvur wife. 

Sad. My wife I Havei 't any — why did you nsk me that? 

i'U. To try you — I know j'ou're ciuning here after me. 

Sad. I don t look like a manied m .n — do 1 ? 

Su. Not a bit of i . 

6ad. That's one ot my misfo' tunes. 

Su. Is it now ! — what's the other ' 

Sad. The other — there are several others, and one of them is that every woman 
I meet thinks I'm after her. 

bu. Do they, indeed ! — and you ain't? 

Sad. No, not a bit of it. I ha'e em 

Su. Well, to be sure — and so you never were married? 



32 

Sad. No, but I was very near it. 

Su. Good gracious ! How did that happen? 

Sad. I don't know — could'nt help it — my luck. 

Su. What made you do it? 

Sad. T did'nt do it — they did it. 

Su. Wouklu't let you alone V 

Sad. No — they kejjt after me all the time. The first one, though buxom, was 
an inv^ilid. 

Su. What was the matter with her ? 

Sad Measles. 

Su. Measles? 

Sad Yes, measles. She labored under the impression that she was going to 
have a fit of the measle-, and wound up by giving them to me. 

Su. And thej' didn'f leave much of j^ou ? 

Sad. No. I'm n^ t fat, a'u I? 

Su. I should sav vou were not. One would think you had enough of 'em fitter 
that. 

Sad. So I had. Too rtuch. But they wouldn't let me rest. An autograph 
hunter came after me then. 

Su. What did bhe have? 

Sad. Whooping cough. 

Su. Poor fellow. 

Sad. Her mission was to cover the walls of a brown stone mansion with the 
autographs of great people, f'er liveliest i leas'ne was to sit back in a chair and 
whooping, bury herself in the pa-'t sugge ted by these numerous writings on the w^dls. 

Su. She's gone too ? 

Sad. Yes, kicking around the world somevvheie, hnntin^ up the remnants of 
dead kings and tmperors. 

Su. You bad a little rest after that, I should think. 

Sad. Yes, a couple o' weeks. 

Su. So long as that ? 

Sad. Quite that. I think — before I met my last affliction. 

Su. What was the matter with her? 

Sad. Boils. 

Su. BotIs ! 

Sad. Yes. boils — aggravated boils. 

Su. Dear me. they must have been very bad. 

Sad. Bad — awful. 

Su. And you are at liberty again ? 

Sad. Ji;st for the moment. 

Su, Well for my part I conldnt think of depriving you of a blessing you ho 
seldom enjoy — but I wish you better luck with your next venture. 

Exit R. 

Sad. Thank you. Now, that's a nice girl, aud a sensible one. First I ever 
met of her kind — ^just my luck. 

Enter Varnisli C. 

Vab. Why, Doctor, you seem to be a regular visitor here. 

Sad., nervously. Yes — I have been asked to call— on pro'"ess'onal business. 

Vak. Take care, there are several larlif s h re, und you'll be in danger. 

Sad. Indeed — then I won't w< it. {Aside.) He nust not suspeit know a- v of 
them. 

Vab. Don't let me interfere with you. 

Sad. O, no. I was going when you came. 

Var. Have you seen the Doctor to-day ? 

Piu, outside. Thank you, I'll find him . 

Sad. There he is now. Eni<-r Pilbnx. 

PiL. Hallo ! all the conspirators together. This seems to be neutral ground to 
meet on. 

Var. I have this moment come 

Sad. And I was this moment going. 

PiL. I wish you would drop down to the office. When I left, no oue was there, 
end some one ought to remain in charge. 

Sad Very good — I'll go down. 

Pjl. If ^ou want me for anything, I shall be here during the afternoon. 

Sad. I'll send for jou if it be nectsoary. 

Exit C. 



83 

ViE. Well, what progress have you made? 

PiL. My d ar fellow, b.tweeu ouroelves, this affair has become complicated, 

Vae. Indeed ! 

PiL. Adelaide is in love with me. 

Vae. You think so— eh ! 

PiL. But I am between two fires. 

Vae. How ? 

PiL. I told you about the enthusiastic Olivia. 

Vae. Yes. 

PiL. She is in love with me too. 

Vae. How do j'ou know? 

PiL. I captivated her during my first visit. I received a challenge in her be- 
half soon after. 

Vae. Tofi^htaduel? 

PiL. Yes, the best of the joke was, I received'a letter from Olivia in which she 
entreated me not to fight. She heard of it, undoubtedly, and fearful that I should 
be hurt, she wrote me. Isn't that strikiug and remarkable evidence ? Does it not 
beiray her love? 

Vae. Dnq lestionably. 

PiL. Now I can choose between the two. 

Vae. Certainlv. 

PiL. It is a difficult task. Olivia seems to me the more amiable, better calcu- 
lated to make a man happy. But Adelaide is rich. 

Vae. Yes, it is hard to choose. 

PiL. That is not all, there is an aunt. 

Vae. Is she in love with you too ? 

PiL. She is. My poems enchanted her. I was invited to a rendezvous, and 
there received such tokens of the warmth other affections — as a man of honor, you 
know — 

Vak. 0, certsiuly. 

PiL. It is enough that she is madly in love with me. 

Vau. But she is — 

PiL. In the prime of life. Yes, still she is wealthy, and that covers a multitude 
of blemishes. The absolute dispos il other for.une would be a handsome thing. 

Vae. You happy man ! The three graces are ready to tr msport you to bliss. 

PiL. Yes, but the choice. Upon my word I cannot make up my mind. "What 
would you advise? 

Vae. Leave it to chance. But I must go. I merely called to see Ihe o!d gen- 
tleman. As he is not here I will not stay. I hope you will come out of your difficul- 
ties with honors, though. Good bye. 

PiL. Thank you, old fellow. 

Vae. Good bye. 

Exit C. laughing. 

PiL., sitting at table E. Good bye. I hope so. He is right. Chance must decide. I 
can't makeup rny mind. My heart is for Olivia, my reason for the oldgiil andmy am- 
bition for Adelaide. Let me see now. "Which shall I obey. What shall I do? Write the 
three names on a slip of paper and draw one of them? That would be foolish, and 
I sh uld go on diavxin..' lantil 1 had chosen all three. Stop ; I have it. I will pro- 
pose to en ch, and she who comes fiist shall have me. Bravo! That's brilliant. If 
lam mistaken in one, I sha 1 be sure of the ot ler. Here are maiejials ; 1 will 
wiite at once and give the notes to the servants (o deliver s-s 1 go out. Let me s-e. 
{Writin'h) "Dear Adelaide : Unless I have luistakcn the.knguaf^eof your eyes, you 
will pirdoQ the bo duets with which I sue for the hand, the possession of wiich will 
make the h ppiest man alive of j^our slave, Pilbox." {While folding letUr.) How as- 
tonished she will be to discover the paiutei' Varuish is her beloved P.Uox, the poet. 
Now for Olivia . "D.ar Olivia." — Hnm ! ihe same thing, of course. {WiiUs.) 'Ihe 
method is pood— it will produce an effect. There, too, the poet will m eeta rewartl the 
paiuter could never hope for. To Sophia, the same, of course ; nothing could be 
better. I am afr.iid she'll be the first— she has the stiongest inctntive. No matter ; 
into the hands of fate I cast my lot. And now for the delivery. I will call the 
servant. 

Enter Sleullu 

Slbuth. How do you do, doctor ? 
PiL. How do you do ? How do you do ? 
Sleuth. I have been looking for you, doctor. 

PiL. Indetd! I'm very glad you found me. (Aside.) She has sent for me, 
certain . (Aloud. ) Well, my 'dear fellow, I am delighted too see you. Why, how well 



34 

and jolly you look, you happy old dog. My dear fellow, what is the message that 
Cupid brings ? 

ISnTTTH, I have a warrant for your arrest. 

PiL. Arrest? Good gracious ! what do you mean, sir? (Asi 'e.) Conftilid it ! 
This is some joke. (^Aloud. ) Come round to the office and I'll see what I can do for 
you. {Aside.) I tbought he — 

Sleuth. Won't do. 

iiL. The devil ! tbis is awkward. {Aside.) It must be Sophia. I'm afraid 
there's some mistake here. Are you sure? 

Sleuth. There's no mistake, and you nust come with me. There was a mis- 
take years ago when you got me kicked out of college for a boy's foolishness but 
there's none here, I'm paying • ack the wronsr done me. 

PiL. Ha ! that's the meaning of it, is it? Well, can't be helped. Go oii, sir. 
I shall not remain there long. (Aside.) Three lovely beings will come rushing to 
my deliverance. {Miter Sadeye G.) , Ah ! you're just in time. 

^AD. Arrt-sted? 

PiL. Yes. Say nothing about it, but see to the delivery of those letters. 

Sad. All three of them. {Aside. ) Here's luck. 



CURTAIN. 



ACT V. 



Susan discovered dusting, takes ujy a telescope on tabk at R. U. E. and com£s 

forward. 

Su. Uncle Teddy's telescope — Dear me— one would think it was made of 
gold and studded all over with diamonds — dirty, rusty looking old thing ! I cant 
dust the room or come in here for a minute but he goes : Be careful, Susau - don't 
misplace the telescope — uncle Teddy's telescope — travelled with him through all 
the wars. I'm sure it looks liivC it — pity it didn't travel with him to the grave. 

Dusting the telescope — holding it as she talks. Enter Bonds C. 

Bonds, dolefully, changes his manner suddenly seeing Svsati cleaning the telescope. 
Ah, Susan — cleaning — be careful — uncle Teddy's telescope—wonderful instrument 
— travelled with him through all the wars — it's all that's left of him now. 

Su. , replacing the telescope as site finishes it. Yes, sir. 

Bonds. That's right — that's right— it's a relic, ati old family relic, and vener- 
able, because of it's history 

Su., going C, aside. Venerable dirt— I'd like to fling it in the river. 

Exit a 



35 

Bonds. Ha ! Ha ! He laughed wlien he was locked up, Sleuth tells me, and 
said a few nights away from home was pleasant, as it broke into the monotony 
of thiiiffs.— The t me will lu- a little longer, I fancy. Well, Heaven be praised, I 
have got rid of bini-now I can take a little comfort. 

Enter Olicia C. 

Ol. Uncle, I should like to speak to you a few minutes. 

Bonds Certainly, iny dear. {Serioudy and with an air of satUfacMon.) "What 
is if, child? 

Ol., modedlfi and tenderly. You have always been a father to me— since I lost 
mv parents. 

Bonds. Yes. my dear— yes. I did my best— I am glad to see you are sensible 
of that. iSitUnri L. of C. wU'h all the digruti/ and importance of a man at ease. 

Ol. I am, indeed, and I trust you will always love me in the same way. 

Bonds I shall always love you, my child. You're a good, sensible girl. 
{Looking at her quetitlouingl//.) 

Ol., mildly. My aratitude 

Bonds, turning and looking at her. Oh! you alarm me, child— speak out — 
(Alarmed.) What is the matter"? 

Ol., meaningly. Uncle, I intend to be a burden on you no longer. 

Bonds. Burden !— you ! — nonsense. 

Ol., sJtyly. I have just had an offer of something. 

Bonds, mystified . Indeed — an offer of something? 

Ol. Y^es, a proposal. 

Bonds, comprehmding . Ho-ho ! a proposal of marriage — from whom, my 
child? 

Ol , iurninq half away . Doctor Pilbox. 

Bonds. Who? 

Ol. Doctor Pilbox. 

Bonds, rising quickly. Damn him — am I never to hear the last of that fellow? 
{Ais if remembering and aside.) But stop, that would just suit me. (Aloud.) So you 
are in love with him ? Well— very good — what do you want me to do in the 
matter? 

Ol. AVhy, of course I should not marry him without your consent. 

Bonds. Oh, you want my consent— of course— of course. And what does 
your heart say, my dear? 

Ol,., shyly. It 

Bonds Says yes— eh ? Well, I'll throw no obstacle in the^way of your hap- 
piness my dear."^ I will inquire about him, and if I find he is a steady, respectable 
man — 

Ol Certainly be is 

Bonds. Then you shall have my most hearty approval. So my little Olivia 
has been robbed of her heart. How did it happen ? Come tell me. 

Sits Jier on footstool at his feet. 

Ol , with her hands in his. Well, you see, I fell in love with him, and he fell 
in love with me. 

Bonds. O, I see. You both fell in love together. 

Ol. No we didn't ; I was the first. 

Bonds. Well, after all, it does not matter who was the first in the race so long 
ns both are equally in earnest. 

Ol . Indeed we are ; but I was the first . I am particular about that, because, 
to be candid (to/ti«(7 around; then low to him.) with you, I loved him from the 
moment I saw him. 

Bonds. I am verv glad to see such a prospect of happiness before j'ou, my 
dear. A.nd t .ke mv word for it, you shall leave this house as would my own child. 

Ol O, nunky, nunky! You are the kindest, best, most generous, lovely, 
and [kissing him.) I am so happy. 

Bonds. I am glad of it, my dear, (looking round and seeing Soj)Ma entering C ) 
Here comes your aunt; she will be pleased to hear the news. 

So , entering C. News ? What is it ? 

Bonds. Our little Olivia here is about to become a bride. 

So. A bride J 

Ol. , turning to Sophia. Yes, aunty dear. I would have told you but he de- 
sired me to speak to uncle first. 



36 

So., B. pompously, I am amazed. 

Bonds. I was somewhat astonished myself; the little rogue managed it all in 
secret. 

So., icUhmt looking at her and her head thrown bade. I wish you joy. 

Ol., graciously. Thank you, aunt 

So. It comes opportunely, we can be married on the same day. 

Bonds, surprised and lookifCj at Sophia. Wliat ! 

So., icith a complacent and dignified air. Yes, brother. I came to tell you I 
have resolved to change my condition and marry. 

Bonds, laughing. I am delightetl to hear it. Belter late than never. 

So., much offended It is not only unkind, but bad taste, at such a time to 
scoff at the emotions of a girl. 

Bonds, apologetically, aside. A girl. {Aloud ) I beg your pardon. I meant 
no harm, but wish you joy. Who is tlie bold knight who has conquered your 
heart, may I ask? 

So. , knoicing she is going to astonish him. Doctor Pilbox. 

Bonds, rising quivldy. What ? 

Ol., in amazement. Doctor Pilbox ! 

So. You seem surprised. 

Bonds, rn despair ; half aside. Confound that fellow, is he going to begin his 
tricks all over again ? That man is my evil genius. 

Ol. This is a mistake. It can't be possible. 

So. Can't it, indeed. Your small malice won't prevent it, I promise you. 
He is in love with me, has proposed, and I intend to accept him. That's all. 

Bonds, haJfi aside. I don't know what to make of it. 

Ol. It cannot be, I tell you. 

So. Indeed ? Why can it not be ? I tell you it can be — it is. 

Bonds, mry perplexed. Wait a moment. Let us understand one another. Do 
you know who has proposed to Olivia? 

So. No ; I forijot to ask. 

Ol. Doctor Pilbox. 

So., surprised. What? 

Bonds, with emphasis. Doctor Pilbox ! 

So. It cannot be. 

Ol. Indeed ! Why can it not be. I tell you it can be — it is ! Yes, dear 
aunt, aad with all deference to you, I shall not give him up. 

Bonds, decisive y, I don't blame you. 

So. We shall see about that. I am your aunt, Miss, and must have precedence. 

Ol. Never ! 

Bonds. Bravo ! 

So. You would not dare ? 

Ol. My life's happiness is at stake. 

So. Mine too. You owe me respect — 

Ol. I shall remember it always. 

So. And gratitude. 

Ol. I shall never forget it. 

So. You will stand aside, then? 

Ol Never. 

So., sublimely. You have never written a tragedy. 

Ol. No, nor never-intend to. -' . 

So. You are unworthy of him. 

Ol. My devotion must prove that. 

Bonds, in great difficulty . He can't marry you both. To which has he pro- 
posed ? 

Both . To me. 

Bonds. That's impossible. 

So. I have it in writing. {Pulling out letter.^ 

Ol. So have I. (Pulls out another letter. ) 

Bonds, looking at Sophia's letter. Tiiat's all right. Signed, your slave — damn 
him — Pilbox; now yours, Olivia. Signed — may I be drowned, but it's the same 
thing. This is monstrous. 

Ol. I have the most convincing proofs he loves me. 

So. So have I. 

Bonds. This man is a fool, or he is trifling with you. I will look into the 
matter at once. In the meantime say nothing about it. Hush! {Turning half 
round and seeing Adelaide.) 

Enter Adelaide C. elegantly dressed. 



37 

Ade. I am glad to find you all together. 

Bonds, looking at her emminingiy. What, the masquerading disappeared ? 
Bravo ! I knew you would come out rit'ht at last. {Reeling Jiervp stage and slialc- 
ing her by the hand.) You make me very, very happy. (^ Aside.) To the dogs with 
Pilbox. 

Ade. Yes, my dear father, I was wrong, I confess, and the best reparation I 
can make for my folly is to admit it. 

BoxDs. Never mind that now. It's gone— that's all I care to know. 

Ade. I owe it to you, {Turning to Bondft, then to Olivia.) and to Olivia, to 
whom I have been moie than rude, (To Bonds.) I have been indulging in caprices 
and mistaking the duties of my position. I will not pretend to iguore them any 
longer, and will endeavor to become a good daught-r and a faithful wife. 

Bonds. You have made me the happiest old man in the world. 
Ol., to Adelaide. 1 am glad to hear it my dear 

So., without lookiwj at her. So am I, and I think it is time. 

Ade. I owe this return to reason to a man who has guided my mind back 
into the right directiou. There is but a step from respect to a warmer feeling. 
He loves me and has asked me to become his wife. Father I came for your con- 
sent. 

Bonds. You know my wishes on that subject. 

Ade. Very well, it is but right you should hear mine. You may refuse me 
your consent, and I will respect your wishes, but I will never give my hand to a 
man I do not love. 

Bonds, impatiently Who has proposed to you ? 

Ade. Dr. Pilbox. 

Bonds, sinking info a chair. Now, indeed, I am undone. 

Ol. and So. Pilbox ! 

Adk. , to Olivia. Yes, dear; now you understand my strange conduct I 
loved him too. I am his choice, you see. I hope you are not angry with meV 

Ol. There is a mistake to be cleared up here somewhere. 

Ade., very much astonished. A mistake ! 

So. Yes, my dear This affair is not near so nicely arranged as you fancied. 

Bonds, furiously jumping up. Has that scoundrel dared to propose to you ? 

Ade., handing him letter. You can see for yourself. 

Bonds, looking at it aside. The same words. -'Your slave," — damn him— 
" Pilbox." 

Ade. What do you say ? 

Bonds. This man is either a scoundrel or a fool. He has already proposed 
to Olivia and your aunt. 

Both ladies sJiow signs of confirmation in different manners. 

Ade , qu stioning in astonishment. Doctor Pilbox ? 

Bonds, indignantly. Yes, Pilbox. (Aside.)' Confound him. 

Ade., aside. Play such a trick as that? No, no! I don't tjelieve it— it can- 
not be. 

Bonds. This is too serious for joking. (Calling.) Sleuth! Sleuth! How 
dare he try to humbug my family, and me, too, in this way. 

Ade , decid> d'y. "These letters are not from him. Some one has ventured 
upon a miserable jest. 

Ol. Yes, it must be so. 

So , sighing, aside. I breathe again . 

Ade He would not be guilty ot feuch a thing. 

Ol. No, it's impossible. 

So , superbly. A. poet never was a traitor to his love. 

Ade., firmly. The error will be cleared up. 

Ol. Oertaml}^ and in his favor. 

So. In my eyes he is already justified. 

Bonds, in desperation. Stop, or you will drive me mad. 

Enter Sleuth C 
Sleuth, bring Dr. Pilbox here. 

Sleuth. m^.ich surprised. Doctor Pilbox ! 

Bonds, annoyed. Yes—don't ask questions— take Mr. Darrcll with you for 
bail and bring hiror here. 

So. He livi s at — 

Sleuth, going. I know where he lives. Ex. C. D. 



38 

Bonds He don't live anywhere — lie is in prison, and I wish he had been 
there ;ill liis life. 

1.. All the Ladies. In prison ! 
; Bonds. Yes — I sent him there. 

Ho. O. you barbarian — my poor Pilbox in chains 

Ade. Father, how ciuld you ? 

Ol. It was erne] . ^ 

Bonds. Don't drive me mad among you — he will soon be here, and I'll sec 
whether he is in love with any of you — C(mfound him—and if he is, he'll answer to 
me for it . 

Ade. Wait a moment. When was the Doctor arrested V 

Bonds. Yesterday afttrno m. 

So. That can't be, he vi.sited me last night. 

Ol It must have happentd later, for I saw him pass the house this morning. 

Bonds. I tell you he was locked up yesterday. 

So. I saw him since. 

Ol. So did I. 

Bonds. Patience can endure this no longer. 

So, He promise! to call on me this afternoon. If he's not arrested he is sure 
to come. I'll go and see. 

Ex . C. and L . 

Ol. I also expect him this afternoon. 

Bonds. I have him, thank Heaven, safe enough under lock and key. 

Sophia oidside C. L. 

So. Come along, dear Dcclor, we shall so"n .settle this difficulty. 

Enters, dragging on Sadeye by the necktie. 

Now then — what did I tell you ! 

Ade. This is not Dr Pilbox. 

Bonds. Certainly not Ha— ha— ha 1 

Ol. I knew there was some mistake. 

So. What ! Are you not Dr. Pilbox ? 

Sad. No, madam — I am Dr. Sade3^e. 

So., furioufily. Sir, how dare ,you 

Sad. I did'nt dare, mam— you did it. 

Bonds. One moment, now — (^getting between Sophia, and Sadeye" — tell me, sir, 
how it happened that you came into a strange house under an assumed name. 

Sad. The old laoy invited me 

So , falling into a chair. Old lady — O, Heavens ! 

Sad. I am editor of the Mudler—a partner of Dr. Pilbox- my name is Sad- 
eye — she mistook me for him. (Aside.) Just my luck. 

So. I am lost — lo^st — betrayed where most I loved. 

Sad, This venerable feniale (So2)hla screa/ns) came into the office when the 
Doctor was out and I was at her mercy, {Sopliia soreams.) She insisted on calling 
me Pilbox, and I coirfd not contradict her. 

So. O, dear O, dear! 

Sad, I understood at once she had taken a fancy to me, {she screams,) not an 
unusual thing for ladi s, I assure you She talked very eloquently, and I must 
say beautifull>, never giving me a chance to repb", assuring me she read all the 
answers in my glorious eyes. (Same business, i Perhaps, you can do the same. 
Try. iLfti ng h s face towards Bonds . ) 

So. And you had the impudence to come and visit me '? 

Sad. At your solicitaiion, certain y, I thought y( u were struck b.y my 
beauiy, for y u were constantly anpealing to my noble brow. 

So. Tliis ic too much, you mean, miserable wrelcb ! {Jumping up and imtkiiig 
a da^hat 7iim. Re jumps nicjy from her behind a tube. All laugli.) 

Bonds, l- a-ba-ija ! This is the fellow that Las been making all the mischief; 
I thought my man was safe enc ugh. 

So, You contemptible, cowardly villian, to play upon my fei lings in this 
manner and make an exhibition of me, (Throtos books at Mm. She finds a stick 
and throws it at him, missirtg him. He gets from behind the table and run* behind 
chairs and other furniture. She following him . Finally, she discovers the telescope 



39 

and picks it up. He dashes off the scene at R. I. C. Sophia following him.) I'll 
break every bone in his body, the mean, deceitful villian. 

Bo^DS, callinff off and JoUotcing ISophia. Ross! Mary! f top her — stop her ! 
Take cAre— {Rushes off\) Uncle Teddy's telescope. Heavens ! she'll murder the 
man and smash the telescope. 

{Noise of glass breaking, R. Adelaide in chair, R. Oliva, L-, both laughing.) 

Snsan entering hurriedly. 

Su. He's gone through the pier glass at the top of the stairs. 

Fbnr servants rush on from dfferent entrances with brooms, shovels, etc. 

Here, come up this waj' — you can catch her as she comes arcoss the landing. 

Exit Susan R. of G followed by all the servants. Noise of Sophia chasing Sadeye and 
Bonds shouting to them. Continued outside. 

Ade What could have induced the man ? 
Ol. I'm sure its a mystery to me. 

Sadeye comes tumbling down the stairs, V, in full view of audience, followed by 
Sophia, wh) falls when about three or four steps from the ground and faints. 
Bonds tumbles after her. Adelaide and 01 va put her in a chair, (J. Sadeye 
goes to attend, her, and each time lie approacJies she starts. 

Bonds, rising and going forward. Thank Heaven I've saved it, though 1 
nearly lost myself. 

Ol. I hope she isn't hurt. 

Sad., aside, arranging his clothes. 1 hope she is. What luck !— what luck ! 

Ade. No, I thinu; not. It is more the excitement. 

Sad. She should be bled. 

So., jumping up. Should she. 

(He dashes away.) 

Susan, entering C. A gentleman, wishes to see Miss Olivia. 
Ol. The Doctor. Ask him to come in, please. 

Ext Susan, C. 

Ade., aside. How my heart beats in anxious expectation. 

{Enter Argent. Suddenly retires wJien he sees all the people.) 

Ade. Come in, Doctor. 

Arg. I beg your pardon, but — 

A-DE., joyfully. This is not the Doctor ! 

Bonds. Of course not. 

So. There are no Doctors. They're all Quacks. 

Ol. You deceived me, then. 

Bonds. This is Henry Argent, who is going to marry Adelaide. 

Ade., aside. I tbink not. 

Aug. I see, matters have come to a crisis. 

So. They have. (Tries to get at Sadeye ) Ah! 

Arg., to Ohma. Pardon me, Miss Bonds— that I misled you was the effect of 
chance. ,„ . , , . „ 

Bonds. Travelling under an sssumed name ! What tricks are these, sir ? 

Arg. When we were at Dr. Pilbox's he expected your daughter to call at 
the oflice— I wished to make her acquaintance without being known. Your niece 
arrived there instead of your daughter, and tuat was how the mistake came about. 

Oij., painfully. It's only a mistake, then? 

So., aitemptinq to make a furious dash at Sadeye.) That's all. 

Bonds. I don't understand this way of doing things, sir. You called on my 
niece and played a false part to her— in luy house. ■, r t^ 

Arg. l"kaow it was wrong, but if you will be good enough to send for Doc- 
tor Pilbox, I will'explain everything satisfactorily. 

Bonds. It is to be hoped you can. 



40 

So. Yes, but he can't. {Movement as before .) 

Susan enters. 

Su. Doctor Pilbox. 

JExit. 

Ade., joy ft illy. At last. 

Bonds, angrily. Is there then a legion of Pilboxes? 

Enter Varnish G. 

Ade, This is the right one. 

Akg. Doctor, jon have come in time 

Ade. We r.re all waiting for j^our explanation. 

BoKDS. How did you get out of prison? 

Arg. Tiie truth must be confessed, Doctor— and it is time. 

Ade. Did you write these letters ? 

All. Sfieak out. • 

So., melancholy. No, he didn't write mine— I feel that. 

Var. It appears we have been discovered. 

Bonds. It looks very like it, sir. 

Arg, Onl with the mystery — we are detected. 

Sad,, aside. What have they been doing? I'm getting uneasy — ^just my luck. 

Var. Then I must begin by begging your pardon — I am not Doctor Pilbox. 

Ade. You are not ? 

Var. No, Miss Bonds. 

Bonds. He isn't the right one, either. What does this mean? — worse con- 
fusion could not get into a mad house. Nobody knows which is which, or who 
is who. 

Sad. Except me— I'm all. right. Nothing will change me or my luck. 

O.ivia, who is standimg behind Sojjhia's chair, begins to get attentive. Soiihia indif- 
ferent. Adelaide highly indijnant 

Var. My name is Va-nish, sir. I am a painter. 

Bonds. Then, sir, how is it that you — 

Var. Permit me, Mr. Bonds. Your daughter's letter suggested to Dr. Pil- 
box the idea of conquering her heart under an assumed name. He asked me to 
personate him if any visitor's called at the office during his absence. This is how 
I became acquainted with you as Dr. Pilbox. , 

Bonds. Matters are becoming mo; e and more complicated. Did you write 
these letters, sir ? 

Var. Allow me. No. These are in the doctor's hand. I trust, though, 
you will permit me to clear up tliis apparent mystery so far as I am concerned. 

Bonds. I shall be obliged to you. I couldn't do it if I trred. 

Var. Mr. Argent there is in love witii your niece. Can you not make him 
a partner on that ground ? 

Arg. I have no objection. 

Bonds. But — 

Ade., quickly to him. Remember my determination. 

Bonds. Now, my dear — 

Ade, You know how I keep my word . 

Bonds Well, I'm satisfied. ( Varnish and he shake hands.) The contract will 
stand as before with the exception of the marriage clause . 

Sad. I begin to foresee—my luck is changing. {Looking ai Sophia.) I'm 
ready . 

Var. Though you have not written this letter, you are willing to acknowl- 
edge its contents. 

Arg., looking at Olivia. With all my heart 

Var, Now, Miss Bonds, I appeal to you. 

Ol. It my uncle — 

Bonds. 1 will consent to anything— only get me out of this mess. 

Var.. to Adelaide. MnyIhope. {Shegweshim her hand. ) A caprice per- 
suaded me to appear before you under a talse name — my love to continue it. 

Ade. Sir, how can I — 

Var. No, no ! Frankness alone can help us now. What was your answer 
to that letter? 

Ade. You want me to be frank. Well, then, it was yes. 

Var. And will the answer be the same now that I make the proposal in 
my own name ? 

Ade. My love was for the man — not the name. 



41 

Vau. Jo BowIh. Now. sir, it is your turn. An honest man of reputation asks 
your daii^liter s hand. ' 

Bonds. I certainlv tliink you have some claim upon us, antl as she has said 
yes— why— I m afniid it would be no use my saying no. 

S.\D. I quite H<,rtee with you. 

Adk., in hit onus. Now I am emancipated. 

Sad. I wish I was. 

BoxNDs. Tell Mie. is this Dr. Pilhox a fiction ? 

Yam. You know him as the painter. 

Bo.NDS. Then he is in prison after all. 

Pi I... enter incj. I bep your pardon, not at this moment. 

Bonds. Then von are— 

PiL. The re.iJPiibox. 

Vaii. Your lei Krs. doctor, have produced wonderful results let me intro- 
duce you to my tnture wife. 

Aug. And mine. 

(Sophia takes out Juindkerchief icith a powder puff rolled up in it, powders her face 
aside, and arranges her head dress. ) 

Pit.. What, then, is left for me. 

Sad. Boils. 

So., coming forward. Then you are Doctor Pilbox ? 

PiL. At your service. 

Sad., rending from a neicspaper. Comes smiling to the scratch ! 

So., to Indies. What a charming man— do you not see now that I was right — 
he loved but me. You proposed, tliough, to my nieces— j^ou naughty Doctor. 

Pjl., aside. Here's a dose ! Has it come to this? Well, I decided that way. 
{Aloud.) Does not an act of indiscretion — one of the licenses of a poet— merit a 
pardon V 

So. If you will submit to a term of probation. 

PiL. How long? 

So. Four — minutes. 

PiL., extending his arms. For ever and ever !— come, rest on this bosom . 

So., falling into his arms coquettisJily. Oh, Doctor ! 

Sad. J use my luck! 







Sophia, 


Pilbox. 




Olivia, 


Argent. 




Adelaide, 


Vaunish. 

Sadeye. 



CURTAIN. 



LIBHAHY Uh UUNUHbbb 




014 211 959 6 • 



